


Golden Heart

by Tilltheendwilliwrite



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, Thor (Movies)
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Smut, Hot Sex, Oral Sex, Shower Sex, Slow Burn, Swearing, Teasing, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-27
Updated: 2019-01-01
Packaged: 2019-02-22 15:55:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 28,669
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13170228
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tilltheendwilliwrite/pseuds/Tilltheendwilliwrite
Summary: Heimdall joins the Avengers, attracting your notice. But what happens when you attract his in return. A hot as hell, slow burn ensues. (originally posted on Tumblr)





	1. Chapter 1

_ Whoa… that’s one big dude! _

Such was the first thought to cross your brain upon seeing the giant warrior dressed in golden armor, horns like that of a bull adorning his helmet, and eyes, unlike anything you’d ever seen before. He stood with Thor and Steve, seeming to dwarf the two men of whom you’d always thought larger than life and all before them. But this man, this giant of a man, was massive.

_ Wow, he’s pretty, _ was thought number two.

His skin was beautiful and dark, looking to be smooth and soft. Still, you imagined there were many a scar upon his body beneath all that armor. He appeared to you as the night, skin so dark and eyes like stars, but he was wrapped in the sun in that golden armor.

“(Y/N)!” Steve called out, breaking you from your musings. “Come meet Heimdall.”

Your brain screamed “ _ Haha! No,” _ even as your body took you closer. Betrayed by your own treacherous feet, you clutched your clipboard and files to your chest. “Nice to meet you,” you somehow managed to say though your heart pounded wildly. “Good to see you again, Thor.”

“Lady (Y/N),” the Asgardian king greeted you with a smile. Leaning closer, Thor stole your fingers from their tight grip on your files to bring them to his lips. “It is always a pleasure.”

“You’re terrible,” you said, smirking at the blond behemoth.

“What? Is it a crime to flirt with a beautiful woman?” Thor asked, his eyes twinkling with amusement.

“I think you’ve been taking lessons from that brother of yours again,” you teased, smacking him gently in the chest with your clipboard. “Steve, if you’ve got a moment, I need these signed off on.” You held the documents out to him when he nodded.

The other enormous blond took your ‘shield’ away, leaving you exposed before the eyes of the third overly large man. His penetrating gaze caused you to blush and push at your hair self-consciously.

“Heimdall, you make the lady nervous,” Thor said with a chuckle, giving the armored man a nudge with his elbow.

“Forgive me,” his deep voice rolled out, drawing your eyes up to his sharp features. “I have rarely seen such beauty before.” Reaching up, he drew the helmet from his head sending a cascade of heavy dreadlocks falling down his back.

“Wow…” you breathed, unable to stop the word from slipping out. Scrambling to cover your blunder when three sets of eyes shot to you, you found yourself touching the end of one long dread where it fell over his arm with the tip of your finger. “How do you get all this under that?”

He smiled and it was as if the sun itself rested upon his face.

Dear lord… you were in so much trouble.

“Magic, of course.”

You rolled your eyes. “Of course.”

“Or he shaves his head.” Thor snickered.

“Bite your tongue!” you barked, turning on the king. “It’s bad enough you go around like that now,” you waved a hand at his shortened locks, “don’t start encouraging others to take theirs off, too!”

“You got a fetish none of us know about, (Y/N)?” Steve asked with a grin, handing back your clipboard and files.

Tugging it to your chest, you returned to using it as a shield, fighting hard to retain your blush. “Maybe I do, Cap,” you quipped, lifting your chin defiantly. “Guess that leaves you out of my fantasies.” Nose in the air, you turned on your heel as his face sobered, calling over your shoulder as you marched away, “Least Bucky and Loki still feature.”

Heimdall smiled when you sent a last glance his direction. “Add my name to your list, fair lady.”

_ Oh, sweet Jesus!! _ You were very much in trouble.

***

You’d managed to avoid Heimdall for a solid week before the inevitable happened. Walking into the lounge and kitchen area designated solely for the Avengers team, a team you’d been adopted into even though you were only a paper pusher, you made your way towards the forever full pot of coffee only to find FRIDAY in the process of brewing a fresh pot.

Sighing, a little put out at your timing, for now, you had to wait, you crossed your arms and leaned against the counter while daydreaming, looking out the window.

The voice resonating behind you - deep, dark, sultry - dampened your panties even as it made you jump in surprise.

“My apologies, fair lady. I seem to have taken the last of this interesting beverage.”

Spinning around, your mouth dried out when before you stood a much changed Heimdall.

Gone was the golden armor, the helmet and the sword which had hung at his back. Now, he appeared before you in clothing of a similar bent to Steve. The dark blue Henley made his impressive physique look even more so where it clung to the dips and curves of heavy muscle. The color took his amber eyes to a whole new level of vibrant. Jeans hugged tight to his thighs and calves, making you wonder if he shopped at the same store as Bucky.

How in the world did they not just tear the seams out when they moved in those wonderful tight pants?

But it was his mass of dreads, tied back in a tail, hanging to mid-back which had you nearly swallowing your tongue. What would they feel like on your skin? Sliding over your flesh while you were naked and moaning beneath him.

“I’m sorry… what?” you muttered, your train of thought so far off track you couldn’t remember what he’d said.

“This.” He held up a white mug filled with coffee. “It appears I took the last of it.” Stepping closer, causing you to tilt your head back, he held it out to you in his large hand. “Perhaps we could share?”

_ Oh boy…  _ There was something you’d like to share. 

“I-I-I can wait for the next pot,” you stammered, cursing your blush as it filled your face.

The smile he gave you was somehow both sweet and predatory. “But I know how much you need it, little one. Think you I haven’t seen your routine? That I wouldn’t know you come for the…  _ coffee _ at this time each day?”

“Why would you be watching… me?”

“You have been avoiding me. I had to do something to catch up with you”

You gasped softly. “Why?”

“As I said at our first meeting. I have never seen such beauty, and my eyes have seen all the nine realms.”

“Oh.” Your blush grew even hotter as you cast your eyes shyly downward.

His hand caressed your cheek, cupped it gently to lift your eyes back to his. “Does my attention displease you?”

You slowly shook your head.

“Then why will you not look at me?”

How were you to try and tell this man, this  _ god _ you were unused to such attention? You were surrounded by gods and heroes on a daily basis. Feeling plain, a little frumpy, and like a wallflower was rather common. They were all exceedingly nice, but you didn’t  _ fit in _ with Steve or Tony, Nat or Wanda. You were friends, but it was like being the token fat kid in the group of popular people in high school. You were always the odd man out.

“You’re so damn big,” you said instead, offering a half-truth. “Hurts my neck to look up that high.”

He laughed, dear god he laughed, and you wondered if it was possible to have an orgasm via sound alone? The deep, guttural rumble of amusement was the most pleasant thing you’d ever experienced, vibrating through your entire body with his closeness.

It was a panties meet floor moment if you’d ever had one.

The smile on his face was the one filled with sunshine again. “Then let me assist you, little one.” Wrapping one arm around you, he scooped you off your feet and deposited you on the countertop before offering you his cup again. “Better?”

This time you took it just to have something between you and him. “Thank you,” you whispered, feeling nearly scarlet with a mix of emotions you couldn’t describe.

His hand returned to your face where he tilted your face back up. “Yet, still, you do not look at me. Do my eyes so disconcert you?”

“No!” you said sharply, looking directly at him. “They’re beautiful.”

“Then what is the true nature of your discomfort?”

Sighing, you clutched the cup closer. “I'm not used to the attention.”

His brow arched. “I find that difficult to believe. Half the men here watch you with eyes full of appreciation. The other half watch you with longing. You quite destroyed the Captain’s hopes the other day, and even my King flirts with you. ”

“No one means anything by it!” you protested.

“Perhaps you are too blind to notice. Perhaps I should not have told you,” he grumbled softly, “Perhaps I should simply make my intentions clear from the beginning and ward off you thinking of any of the others as potential lovers.”

“What are you talking about?” you asked, confused as all get out, ignoring the way your heart leapt at the word  _ lovers _ .

He seemed to be thinking quite hard about something before he gave a sharp nod and took the cup of coffee from your hands.

“Hey! I was drinkin- mph!” Your protest was effectively cut off by his lips landing precisely on yours.

_ Dear lord… _ You’d imagined it, alone at night in your bed, you’d imagined what it would be like to kiss the once Guardian of Asgard. If he would be gentle or dominant. If he would give or only take. What you got was all the above.

Gentle lips, firm but soft, coaxed you into a kiss which seemed to defy the laws of gravity. You felt as if you floated, even as you knew your ass was still connected to the countertop. Though gentle, they were persistent, demanding your response, insisting you meet him halfway, then requiring you to open your mouth for his questing tongue. He took pleasure in the kiss, a small growl sounding in his throat, even as he gave it back in the form of exploring hands and mind drugging kisses.

Your hands lifted all on their own to glide the length of his large arms, skim the tops of beefy shoulders, and land in the glorious wealth of dreads.

When his teeth nipped into your bottom lip, you let out a wanton moan so loud you startled yourself into jerking back.

There was a feral look in his eyes as his hands came down to cage you thoroughly against the counter. “Now do you see, little one? I very much desire to know you better.”

“I… see,” you whispered, unable to look away from his stunning eyes. It seemed as if galaxies stretched out before you in them. Even wild and untamed, he maintained his calm, his gentleness. “I… think I’d like that,” you murmured, blush burning your face, but this time it was a pleased one.

His arm shifted to wrap around your hips and hold you close. “But I must tell you a truth, Lady (Y/N) before I take this any farther.”

“What?” you asked, concern suddenly filling you.

“I knew of you before I journeyed here with my King. I… used to watch you, from the Bifröst, before I was banished.”

Shocked you could only stare at him.

“When Thor offered me the chance to come here… I leapt at it, for I wished so much to meet the woman with the golden heart.”

“What? Me?”

“Yes, you.” He smiled, nudging his nose against your cheek, drifting down to your throat. “You are as beautiful outside as you are in. You are a rarity. A golden heart. One pure of body and spirit.”

His mouth closed over your pulse and made you moan. “Keep doing that and the purity of body is going right out the window!”

Laughing, he pulled back. “I do not mean you are untouched, just good, little one. Heart and soul. You are simply… good.”

“Oh.” It filled you with all kinds of warm fuzzy feelings, even if knowing he’d watched you was both flattering and a little creepy. “Did you watch me… a lot?”

“A peek, now and then.”

Relaxing, you hummed when his tongue lapped at your throat. “That’s alright then.” It was his nature and his job. If he looked in once in awhile, you wouldn’t hold it against him.

“I would be most willing to explore your purity of body notion,” he murmured against your ear and made you shiver, “while giving you a closer look at my hair.”

“Dear god,” you whimpered when his teeth scraped down your skin.

“The god you seek is before you, little one. You need only cry out for Heimdall.” He grinned, the smile lighting up his face.

This time you laughed and gave his hair a tug. “I think I’d like that… Heimdall.”

  
  
  



	2. Chapter 2

Three weeks.

That’s how long you’d been waiting for Heimdall to make his damn move.

Three  _ godforsaken _ weeks!

Since that day in the lounge when he’d kissed you, touched you in ways you'd never known were possible, the big lug had done nothing more than that. He would lift you up onto the nearest raised surface, kiss you breathless, saying things which left you hot, bothered, and more than raring to go, but it always ended at touches and kissing.

The man had the most amazing hands, but if he didn’t put those babies to work on something other than the outside of your clothes soon, you were liable to burst into flames.

Today, however, you had other pressing matters to attend to. You were a paper pusher for the Avengers, but as such you often got dragged into meetings with the brass as your memory, a nearly photographic one, had you recalling data with a precision rarely seen outside a computer.

Normally your work attire consisted of slacks, flats, and a fitted top beneath a light jacket, but, faced with all the higher ups, you’d dressed to impress. The pencil skirt was your favorite, a stunning deep red which made you feel powerful when paired with seamed stockings and tall black pumps. The height of the heels lifted your ass and gave a shape to your legs you adored, but the shoes often did in your feet when you had to be on them all day. Luckily, the meeting was set to be only a few hours, and you would be seated throughout most of it.

The cami you’d chosen was a silky black with a lace insert which came up around your throat, allowing you to forgo all but basic jewelry, classic gold hoops you’d had forever. Shrugging into your suit coat, another black piece but with shiny satin lapels, you fluffed your hair, touched up your lips, and headed out the door to the meeting.

You looked good and you knew it, the confidence and heels adding a swagger to your step not often seen. Slipping into your office, you collected the files you knew you would need, and headed for the conference room with a swing in your hips. What you didn’t expect to find when you walked in the room was Steve, Bucky, and Heimdall standing around with their backs to you.

It gave you pause, added a flush to your cheeks, but you tucked your face down and went to pour a cup of coffee and a glass of water, knowing you would likely need them both before the meeting ended.

“Hey, doll face,” Bucky called out, the first to notice you. When you looked up, he sent you a grin and a wink. “Looking swell, dame.”

Rolling your eyes, you stirred your coffee and popped the spoon in your mouth before dropping it in the dirties bin. “Most women don’t like being referred to as  _ dame _ , James.”

“Oh, she used your first name!” Steve chuckled, elbowing Bucky in the ribs. “Someone’s in trouble.”

Picking up a muffin, you plucked at the wrapper while eyeing the Captain. “And how long did it take me to break you of the same habit?” Your words caused Steve to blush.

Moving around them, Heimdall’s big frame filled your vision as he bent to take your hand and kiss your knuckles. It should have been cheesy, but the man could pull off the gallant knight thing with ease. Every time he did it, your heart sped up, racing in your chest, making you lightheaded.

“I hope you don’t find  _ my lady _ to your disliking. I’m afraid I would be unable to change my ways.” His amber eyes never left yours as he straightened, bringing your hand to his chest.

“No… I… no,” you swallowed to try and find more words than two. “You’re fine.”

_ Oh look, two more. _

“You look quite fetching, little one,” he said as his eyes finally left yours to trail down your body. “You Midgardians wear such… interesting fashions.”

His unoccupied hand came up to tussle the ends of your hair before a single fingertip touched your earring, then your jaw, and down to lightly stroke the lace around your throat, coming to rest at the exact center of your cleavage.

“Heimdall,” you whispered, finding it very hard to think beyond his questing finger and sexy eyes.

“Are you fraternizing on company time, miss (Y/N)?” Fury asked, striding into the room in his signature black on black ensemble.

“No, sir!” Jerking away from Heimdall, and ignoring the looks from Steve and Bucky, you collected your cups and muffin and took your typical seat as the director got started.

Your heightened sense of awareness never did settle as you sat up the table from the three Avengers while the man who once guarded the gate to Asgard watched you intently. It wasn’t until Maria Hill turned to you, asking for details of a past mission report that you finally relaxed and fell into the rhythm of your job.

The meeting wound on, covering everything and anything under the sun, including Heimdall’s joining the team. His eyes made him invaluable to their safety, and he was happy to assist and be of use. His first joint mission would be coming up in a few days, hence his involvement in this meeting.

It seemed you were to assist in seeing him sorted with weapons and gear. It wasn’t the first time you’d been asked to do so. As you usually ended up filing the paperwork anyway, this simply expedited things. And he couldn’t go into battle dressed in golden armor, no matter how he sighed.

Glancing his way, you gave a reassuring smile and turned back to Fury.

By the time you’d picked your way through the muffin, taken what felt like a thousand pages of notes, and downed both coffee and water, they were finally wrapping things up.

“Miss (Y/N), get Heimdall kitted out ASAP. I want him ready to go with the rest of the team when the call comes in.”

“Yes, sir.” Rising to your feet, you ignored the pinch of your shoes and gathered your things together.

“Dismissed,” he grumbled as he stalked out of the room, Maria hot on his heels.

Sighing, you leaned back against the table and stretched your neck.

“Intense today,” Steve murmured, leaning next to you.

“No more than usual.”

“Buck and I can see to Heimdall if you want,” he offered quietly when you rubbed the back of your neck.

“No, I’m good,” you declined. “I actually like this part. I don’t use the weapons, so no one lets me play with them.”

“If you want to learn, doll face, you just gotta ask,” Bucky said, leaning at your other side.

“And likely shoot my foot off?” You shook your head. “I’ll pass. If I can’t use a weapon, no one will stick one in my hand and ask me to shoot anyone else.”

Two sets of blue and a set of amber eyes all frowned at you.

“What?” you asked, perplexed by all the scowling.

“But what about protecting yourself?” Steve asked. “What if you needed to know how in order to save yourself or someone else?”

“That’s why I have you guys,” you smirked and pressed off the table. Collecting your papers, you looked up at Heimdall as you passed. “I’ve got time if you do?”

“My attention is all yours, little one.”

That should not have made your thighs quiver the way they did. You’d really like to have all his attention, but not in the weapons room. In your room with the drapes closed and the door locked.

“Great!” you chirped instead. “Just let me drop these off.”

He followed you out so closely you could feel the heat from his t-shirt and jeans-clad body against your side. It was seriously unfair how hot he was both physically and heat wise. All you wanted to do was snuggle into that warmth and lick him. All over. Repeatedly.

_ Down girl. _

Striding into your office, you went to the desk and leaned over it to drop everything where you could find it later, missing completely the click of the door shutting.

The big hands landing on your hips, however, did not go unnoticed.

“Heimdall?”

“You look…” his hands skimmed over your butt and down the backs of your thighs, “ravishing. These,” his hands dropped to follow the seam in your stockings, “what are they called?”

“Stockings…” You tried very hard not to whimper when his hand journeyed up beneath your skirt.

“And how do they stay up?”

“Gar-garter belt,” you moaned when hot fingers found the bare flesh at the back of your thigh.

“Show me.”

It was a command coming in a heated growl which set you aching.

Pressing back into him, you stood and turned slowly around. Your shoes gave you height but you were still inches shorter than him. Reaching for the hem of your skirt, you drew the tight fabric up your legs. It was slow going, far more sensual than you’d meant it to be, but you had to shimmy once in a while to get the skirt up.

With each inch of revealed flesh, Heimdall’s eyes darkened until the amber became like age darkened gold, liquid and intense.

Though your stockings were a sheer black, the garter belt was a racy red, shades brighter than the skirt causing you such trouble.

Another growl, this one filled with lust, rumbled from Heimdall’s throat as he took in the red ribbons and clasps caught on the black lace. “Yes… such interesting… fashion.”

“Heimdall…” you moaned when his fingers skimmed your thighs, touching, caressing, and tugging on the elastic which held up your stockings.

“Yes, little one?”

“If you stop…” you let the threat hang.

“Do you wish me to continue? I thought all Earthly women wished to be wooed? To be treated with care?”

“Who told you that?” you snapped.

“My King. He said it was best to court you like a gentleman, rather than ravish you against the wall like a beast.”

_ Thor… was a dead man. _

Clutching his shirt, you gave a jerk and tugged him toward you. “Heimdall… do both!”

The shock registered on his face, then his hands were gripping the backs of your thighs and lifting you up, causing you to gasp with the show of strength as he shoved you with just the correct amount of force into the wall.

“Do you wish for me to fuck you like an animal? To take you hard and fast?”

“Yes!” you cried, already ready for him, your body more than up for the challenge.

“Then what must you say?”

A flash of memory from your first encounter three weeks ago came to you and you smiled. “I need you… my god  _ Heimdall _ .”

“Then you shall have me.” He let your legs drop and stepped back, reaching to tug your skirt down your thighs. “But not yet.”

“What!?” you hissed, ready to cry you were so damn frustrated.

Big hands cupped your face and warm lips pressed against yours, creating that same falling, floating sensation you felt every time he kissed you. He leaned in, letting his body pin you to the wall where you could feel the heavy, long, thick length of him digging into your hip.

“I do not plan on letting you leave my bed for some time, little one,” he crooned against your cheek when he finally ended the kiss. “We will spend hours together. Touching, tasting, learning of each other. I will have you in so many ways, so many positions you will lose count, but I will not take you this first time against the wall. Perhaps the tenth we will see how you fair speared by my cock against the hard surface.”

“Oh…  _ wow _ …” you sighed as your knees went out from under you.

He pecked you a final kiss, gentle and soft to the lips. “But first, work.”

“Work sucks,” you groaned, clinging to his shirt when your shoes proved unstable.

Chuckling quietly, Heimdall’s hands continued to caress and stroke, slide beneath your jacket and over your ass, smoothing out the wrinkles of your skirt and not helping your need to get off in the slightest.

“If you don’t stop…”

“What will you do, little one?”

Opening eyes you hadn’t realized you closed, you gazed up at his laughing ones. Finding some bone to throw back in your legs, and dredging up every ounce of bravado you had, you flattened your palms to his chest. From there, you worked them slowly downward, back and forth, feeling all the muscle beneath the thin fabric flex and move beneath your exploration. Your eyes never wavered from his all-seeing one’s, watching instead as they swirled into pools of rich, dark gold when your fingers finally came to rest on the button of his jeans.

“Have I told you how much I like these pants?” you whispered, turning your wrist and laying your palm firmly on his erection. “They’re quite snug though,” you continued as you stroked him. “Shame if they got suddenly…  _ tight _ .”

“They have been  _ tight _ before because of you.” He took your hand and pressed it harder to the front of his jeans. “Why do you think it took me a moment to come to you in the meeting room? I was quite…  _ uncomfortable _ watching you speak, drawing forth facts and numbers which, while they made no sense to me, still impressed me with your memory.”

“Good to know I’m not the only one feeling it,” you sighed, shivering with want at the girth you were arousing.

“Quite the opposite,” he murmured, bending to lean his arm against the wall above your head and his forehead on his arm. “That is… most… pleasing.”

You continued to dance your fingers over him, squeezing and stroking as best you could through the gradually stretching cotton.

“Odin’s beard, woman!” he swore softly. “If you do not stop…”

“What? Will you take me against the wall like a beast?” you quipped, feeling so powerful. You literally held him in the palm of your hand, breaking down the resistance of this giant of a man.

His eyes glowed when he peered at you from the shadows formed by his arm. “Yes.”

Dropping your hand, you stepped around him and headed for the door. “It’s too bad we have work, then, isn’t it?” You were out the door and down the hallway before he could even think to call you back.

“That was  _ very _ tricky, little one. You may regret it later,” he murmured against your ear once he’d caught you by the elevator.

“Maybe, but at least I’m not the only one  _ feeling _ it now.” The elevator doors opened and you stepped inside the empty car, Heimdall hot on your heels.

When the doors slid shut, you yelped out in shock and surprise for his big hand had come down firmly against the cheek of your ass. “Heimdall!”

“Feel  _ that _ , little one, and remember just whom it is you tease.”

His hand rubbed your cheek as you reached back and took a hold of the less tight front of his jeans. He jumped slightly, his surprise evident, but you only smiled sweetly up at him as you held him by the balls. “You remember, oh great and mighty god, women of Earth don’t bow down to men unless they want to.”

“I can make you want to,” he said, the touch on your ass becoming a seductive caress.

“Big talk… we’ll see.” Sniffing daintily, you released your hold right before the doors opened and walked out with far more confidence then you were feeling. You knew damn well he could make you beg if he wanted to.

Still, this game of torment and tease was turning out to be rather fun. It made you wonder, though, just who would break first?

  
  
  



	3. Chapter 3

You paced into the weapons locker, more like a weapons warehouse, with Heimdall at your side and picked up a clipboard. “Everything you could want,” you waved your hand at the rows of weapons, “before your very eyes.”

“Impressive. But while I am aware of all these… tools, I do not have a preference.” He turned to you, stepped closer, and skimmed his fingers down your arm. “You choose.”

You refused to shiver, knowing very well what he was up to. “How am I supposed to pick weapons for you?”

“I have long used a sword, little one. I know little of Midgardian guns.”

Your lip went between your teeth, and you gnawed at it. Maybe this was a mistake. Maybe you should have let Steve and Bucky handle this.

“(Y/N)?” he asked when the silence stretched on.

“I'm… thinking,” you murmured to buy some time. You didn’t want to leave it to the guys. While you may not know how to use them personally, you’d read enough requests, status reports, and docs about them to know what each did. “I can figure this out.”

Walking away, you ignored your sore feet and traveled the racks. “Strengths would be… god of Asgard, powerful, strong, eyes that can see great distances. Heimdall?”

“Yes, my lady?”

“How are you with math? Angles. Wind shear. Calculation of distances?”

“To use the Bifröst correctly, one must be able to discover such things if one wishes to place a traveler precisely. I was most adept, others… less so.”

“And how’s your aim?”

“It is without equal.”

“Hm, we’ll see about that.” Stopping before a row of sniper rifles, you waved a hand at the display. “Pick one.”

He only looked at you for a long moment before turning back to the guns. “What am I to do with these?”

“They’re long-range rifles used by snipers. With your eyes, and if you can do the math, you’d likely make a great sniper, but… maybe we’ll let Bucky walk you through those. Pick one and I’ll make arrangements for you and Buck to do a trial run tomorrow.”

He placed his fingers on the barrel of the Barrett, Bucky’s rifle of choice, and drew the tips gently over the metal. He touched the scope, the trigger, the buttstock with gentle passes; a lover’s tender caress.

Your thighs clenched for you knew what that soft skimming of fingers felt like. He’d done it to your skin but a moment ago in your office.

Those long dark fingers moved on, repeating the action with an AWM before taking the weapon from the wall. “This one.”

“Great!” You played off your startle at his deep voice as excitement with his choice and made a note on your clipboard.

He placed the weapon back on the wall. “What next?”

Those piercing eyes were back to gazing at you. “Uh…” What were you doing again? “Oh!” You flushed and he smirked. The big jerk knew exactly what he was doing to you. “This way.” Turning on your heel, you struck off towards the area with the team’s suits. “I’m sure you’ve seen the team in all their glory.” You paused, waiting for an affirmation of some kind. It came in the form of a deep hum of appreciation, and when you glanced back, you found him staring at your ass again.

It gave an extra twitch to your hips.

His eyes turned golden, then lifted to lock with yours.

A deviant smile turned up the corners of your lips.

_ Two can play that game, big boy. _

“Good. Then would you prefer a suit like Steve’s or something closer to Sam and Bucky’s?”

While Steve’s was all one piece, for the most part, Sam and Bucky preferred the tactical vest and cargo pants version. Steve’s were also reinforced with Kevlar, while the boys preferred the vests and lighter pants. For Sam that was a no-brainer. He didn’t need the extra weight. Bucky simply used his arm more often than not to deflect the shots, or, master assassin he was, shot them before they could shoot him.

“The later,” he purred, eyes hot.

“Very good.” You tried not to swallow your tongue.

The ‘vault’ was biometric and you place your hand on the plate.

“Miss (Y/N),” FRIDAY greeted you, her Irish lit lovely as always.

“FRIDAY,” you answered back. It no longer seemed odd to have a conversation with only a voice.

“Heimdall,” the AI said, and if you weren’t mistaken, there was a little sigh in her tone.

It made you smile. Seemed you weren’t the only one to appreciate a fine specimen of a man.

“Lady FRIDAY.”

“Do you need assistance?” she asked.

The rolled length of a tape measure on the table in the center of the room caught your eye and gave you a wicked idea. “Thank you, but no. I’ve got this,” you assured her as you picked it up, letting the roll unfurl in your hand to brush the tail along the ground.

“Oh? OH!” She actively giggled. “You go, girl.”

While you tried hard not to blush, you gathered it up and placed it back where you’d found it before turning to Heimdall. “We need to take some measurements so everything fits… perfectly.” You wet your suddenly dry lips, knowing what you were about to do was going to be both fun and tortuous. Usually, FRIDAY could do a simple scan and run the numbers, hence the reason you were in the vault, but… 

The door to the vault shut behind Heimdall, engaging the locks.

_ Thank you, FRIDAY. _

A circular room, it held the elite of the team’s best gear. Steve’s suit sat shoulder to shoulder with Sam’s wings, Tony’s favorited Iron Man Armor, Nat’s Widow Makers, Clint’s bow, Wanda’s preferred jacket, and a whole host of weapons Bucky favored. Each shelf or case was softly lit, illuminated to throw light up the object and make them look like some kind of museum display. Why Tony had put all this work into one small room, you had no idea, but for the moment, with FRIDAY playing wingman, it worked to your advantage. 

Unbuttoning your jacket, you watched Heimdall’s eyes grow even warmer when you shrugged out of it and placed it down on the table with care. The clipboard and pen you’d been using were already waiting, and you motioned him closer.

His gaze traveled the length of your bare arms, back to the lace covering your chest and hugging your neck. “You are stunning, little one.” Warm palms followed the path his gaze had taken, stroking with gentle pressure up until he could cup your cheek. “But you are planning something. You have the look of Loki about you. Pure mischief.”

Your fingers found the tape on the table again and drew it forward to press the soft item to his chest. “Whatever could I be up to?”

“I am yet unsure, but soon I will find out.”

_ Yes, he would. _

The muscles of his chest flexed beneath your fingers. You bit back a smile and stroked the tape over his heavy pecs. “I only need to take a few measurements. Wouldn’t want to find out your pants were  _ tight _ mid-mission, would you?”

His brow quirked up, but you refused to drool. “Indeed.”

Quirking yours in return, you leaned into him fully, allowing your breasts to press into his chest as you stretched upward to wrap the tape around his neck for his collar size. You had no idea if they needed it for this sort of thing, but you were going to take every measurement you possibly could… because you could.

“What are you doing?” he asked. He swallowed, and you bit your cheek to keep your laughter in.

“I told you. Taking your measurements.” The slick tape skimmed easily through your fingers, which you let drag lightly along his throat. Noting the length, you released the tape to turn and jot it down.

When you turned back, he was watching you suspiciously, so you moved to his side and measured his sleeve length. Everything was slow and methodical. Each drag of tape accompanied by skimming fingers of just enough pressure to be felt but could be mistaken for part of the job. Still, his eyes had ago become a molten gold. He watched you like a hawk would a mouse.

Once you moved to his back, you let a smirk twitch your lips for he was growing rather tense. “Going to measure the width of your back next,” you murmured, placing the tape on one shoulder. Reached for his hair, his glorious hair, tied in a tail of dreads with the other, you lifted it up to hang over his shoulder before smoothing the tape across the broad expanse of his back.

“How do you know how to do this?”

His question, one rather out of the blue when he’d been silent these last few minutes startled you. “My mother was a seamstress. Wedding dresses were her specialty, but she’d take on whatever mending she could. It was how she made her living.”

“Ah, I thought perhaps it was one of the many things you had read which stuck in that pretty head of yours.” He glanced over his shoulder at you, but you pushed his face back around.

“Hold still,” you scolded. “Now I have to take that one again.”

“I beg forgiveness, lady.”

You bit your lip to retain an even bigger smile. This time when you walked your fingers across his back, you did so with slightly more appreciation for how warm, wide, and firm it was. His voice had a habit of weakening your knees, but you firmed them quickly and placed the tape against his nape. You couldn’t tell if you’d imagined it or not, but you thought perhaps he’d shivered when your nails scraped lightly down his skin.

_ Thoughts for later _ .

The tape landed on the waist of his pants, and you ogled his butt. It was there. It was pert. It was juicy. The man had one seriously fine behind, so why not? You wonder if you could pass off measuring the curve of it as a necessary part of the process, but decided against it and went to jot more notes.

Back in front of him, you noticed the sheen of sweat which had formed on his forehead and the lust in his beautiful eyes. “Lift your arms for me?” you whispered, hardly able to remember your own name, let alone what you were doing when he looked at you that way.

“Like this?” He brought them out to shoulder height.

“That will work for the moment,” you said.

It was time to put part two of “torment Heimdall” into play, and you pressed up on your toes to reach your arms around him. He was so broad, you had to drop your hands lower to catch the opposite end of the tape. The press of your breasts into his chest did not, however, go unnoticed.

He inhaled sharply, his entire body tensing against you. His hands clenched into fists. The flex of his jaw and the grind of his teeth gave you a thrill.

You shimmied the tape upward as you leaned away so it crossed the widest part of his chest. “Go ahead and relax your arms.”

His hands immediately dropped to your waist.

“Not done yet,” you murmured, taking the measurement and stepping away to write it down.

The sound which came from him was most definitely a growl.

“Down boy,” you teased, smiling when you returned to his front in order to nudge his arm. “Up.”

“Again?” It was a near whine.

“Yes,” you snickered, pressing up against him a second time. You gave a small roll of your body, just to torment him, pretending to miss the end of the tape and straining to catch it. When you drew it back, you skimmed his hips as you went, taking his waist measurement. Your knuckles caressed his body, coming together at the button of his jeans.

The bulge which pressed against his zipper was quite prominent by this point.

“Are you done, little tease?”

“No.” You shot him a smile.

“Finish then.  _ Swiftly _ .”

“Is that an order?”

“Yes!” he hissed, eyes intense and full of need.

You shouldn’t poke the bear. You really shouldn’t. It was a bad idea. You did it anyway. “Hm, sucks for you. I’m not a soldier. I don’t take orders.”

His face hardened into lines of sensual command. “But you will, little hellion.”

A wicked combination of trepidation and lust skittered your spine. The need to clear your throat was upon you, but you didn’t look away. “We will see,” you whispered instead, feeling like a flaming goddess. One who could torment and tease the giant of a man before you without consequence. Or, in hope of them, you weren’t really sure.

He gave you confidence, strange as that sounded. The man could crush you without effort, but the way he looked at you, the way he touched you, gave you such confidence you felt safe in teasing him without mercy.

You placed one end of the tape against his hip, let the other fall to the floor near his outer ankle. Holding his gaze, you stepped slowly out of your shoes and sank with surprising grace to the floor to kneel at his feet.

The look on his face changed, shifted, and became that of a warrior on the hunt, so potent you knew your panties would be thoroughly ruined thanks to the man towering over you. You hooked the fingers supporting the top of the tape into his waistband. With the other, you set them on his hip and skimmed firmly downward. The girth of his thigh made your mouth water. His calf was no better.

When you reached his ankle, taking his pant length - a measurement you didn’t  _ technically _ need - you glanced down to see the number and take a breath.

“Are you finished?”

“No,” you said to the impatient Asgardian.

His arms crossed, drawing your gaze up to his biceps. His hands were back to clenched fists.

You tried very hard not to whimper. A glance at his face, though, knocked you for a loop. He looked like he wanted to eat you alive. You were playing with fire, and you knew it.

Your hands curled around his knee. The tape, again, traveled upward, skimming and flirting with the firm muscle contracting beneath your hand. His breath was coming fast, easily discernable in the silence of the vault. The sound made you ache to feel the warmth on your skin.

You gripped his thigh, splaying your fingers out to balance yourself on your knees before pulling the ends of the tape together. The man had legs like tree trunks. Tree trunks you’d like to wrap your thighs around, feel the bare skin against yours as you sat in his lap and ran your hands over all that…  _ man _ .

The tape fell from your nerveless fingers, skimming down a couple inches before you caught it.

“Something making your mind wander, (Y/N)?”

You gave a noncommittal hum as you noted the measurement to write down later. “Last one.”

“Is it?” he asked.

You brought your gaze back to his and smiled. It started out soft and grew into wicked causing the sharp, hunter’s look to return to his face. “Oh, yes. Last one…” The words hung in the air as you placed your fingers on the inside of his ankle. The inseam was the last measurement, and you were going to take full advantage of those tight pants.

As your fingers began their slow journey up the inside of his calf, his eyes widened in surprise, then flared with a challenge. He said nothing, only watched as you traversed the inner edge of his knee, transitioned back to his thigh, and continued upwards, higher and higher and higher.

Your teeth found your lip. You glanced from his eyes to your hand and brought your fingers as high as you needed, noting the measurement. Then, you continued up, turning your wrist at the last second to cup him, your fingers dancing along the seam running between his legs.

The growl which came next was the sexiest one yet, preceding his hands going beneath your arms and lifting you bodily to dangle in the air before him.

“Holy  _ fuck _ !” you squeaked, his strength unfathomable.

He dropped your ass to the table. His hands went to the hem of your skirt and shoved it up your legs, forcing it over your hips and under your ass, rucking it up around your waist to the sound of tearing seams. The black lace thong you’d worn to match your bra and the red lace of your garter belt was now fully visible above your stockings. He pressed your knees open and stepped between them.

One big hand sank into your hair, pulling your head back. It arched your neck and forced you to look at Heimdall. The blazing fire, the hot lust in his eyes was like the sun. It scorched you and made you gasp as the heat of your desire became something more. Something so strong, you shuddered beneath the intensity of it.

“Heimdall,” you whispered only to be shushed by a finger caressing your lips.

“You have been playing a very wicked game with me, little one. Very wicked. I would think you’d been taking lessons from Loki with how you torment me.”

A soft whimper left your throat when his questing finger pressed against your bottom lip, pulling ever so gently to part your lips and slip between your teeth.

“Is your desire so strong you cannot wait a moment longer to touch me?”

You wondered if he could hear the pounding of your heart.

Lashes fluttering, you licked his finger, running your tongue around the tip in a sensual dance, tasting the exquisite flavor of his skin. So close, you could smell him. It was like sunshine and something which made you think of starlight. Of the ever reaching cosmos. Of the never-ending vastness of space. It was as if he smelled of galaxies and nebulas. The ones reflected in his eyes.

“Tell me, little one, is your need so great you cannot wait until our day is finished?” He drew his finger from your mouth to run the wet appendage around your lips.

You made to answer, a sigh, a nod, something when his finger stopped you and caused you to open your heavy eyelids.

“If you say yes, my lady, my sweet little one, I will give you what you need.” His hand fell from your lips to stroke that wet finger far too gently against your soaked panties, teasing your nub with not nearly enough pressure. “I will touch you, and stroke you, and play with your wet heat. I will give you my fingers and my tongue. I will see you come with such force, you scream the walls down, but…” His finger stalled.

“… but?” you managed to gasp, rocking against his hand. The hold on your hair tightened, warning you to be still.

“But… you will not come again for  _ hours _ once I have you in my bed. I will deny you. I will bring you to the brink, over and over and over until you are strung out and begging for my cock. Begging for me to let you come. Then, and only then, will I sink myself inside you. I will sit there, buried deep, and bring you off with nothing more than my mouth on your breasts. You will beg me to move, but I will not. I will take every ounce of your pleasure, push you to your limit before finally taking mine. Do you still wish to continue?”

You stared at him, slightly nervous, viciously aroused, and ridiculously intrigued, but the only sound you could make was, “Um…”

  
  
  



	4. Chapter 4

“That is not an answer,” Heimdall crooned. His finger slowly skimmed to the side and slipped beneath the edge of lace to slick through your wet lips.

It nearly made your eyes roll back.

Your lashes fluttered shut. Your lips parted on a soft moan.

Heimdall’s chuckle was deep, a rumble which started in the very depths of his chest. “I will give you more, little one. Much… much more,” he said, tugging on your hair and stroking you at the same time. “You need only give in.”

“I…” You spread your legs wider, wanting more, needing more.

A tender kiss was placed on your quivering mouth. Teeth nipped gently into your lower lip, tugged and pulled and left behind the taste of spice from his mouth. He lifted his head but only enough to drag his lips along your jaw and down to the pulse point in your throat. His teeth closed over your skin, scraping with just enough pressure to have you seeing stars.

“Heim…  _ dall _ ,” you moaned.

His finger pressed deeper, sliding through your folds and into your body to curl against your walls. “Are you saying yes? I will drop to my knees right now, tear this garment from your body, and take you straight into the flames of Valhalla, but you must make a choice.”

“I… I want…” The words were almost impossible to form. “I want…”

“I hate to interrupt,” FRIDAY’s voice was like a bucket of ice water, “but the boss is on his way with the Captain and the Sergeant.”

Your legs snapped closed on Heimdall’s hand. “What!” The sound of someone accessing the biometrics scanner set your heart racing. “FRIDAY, stall!”

The sound of the scanner failing gave you a moment’s reprieve, but it was Tony! FRIDAY stalling wouldn’t last long.

A quiet chuckle came from Heimdall.

“Don’t laugh! This is half your fault! Help me down!”

“I would, but you have me trapped between your thighs.”

A squeak left your lips. Your thighs snapped open, and you shoved at his wrist. “Off! Get off!”

His hand slipped from between your legs. His finger went to his mouth, and you watched him suck the glistening fluid from it. A sound somewhere between a moan and whimper escaped your open mouth, making you momentarily brainless.

“Mmm, little one… delicious,” he hummed, “but you should really get down if you do not want the others to see what I have been so enjoying.”

You gave an  _ eep _ and nearly fell from the table, saving yourself at the last second on Heimdall’s outstretched arm. “I can’t get caught like this! I’ll get fired!” The highly unprofessional and compromising position you were in would get you in so much trouble. Flirting was one thing. Fucking in the vault something else entirely!

With a tug and a wiggle, you managed to get your skirt down your legs. There was a tear in the seam at the back where the small split was, allowing you to walk without taking mincing steps. What had once been two inches long was now closer to five and much farther up the back of your thighs than it should have been.

“It’s fine. You look fine,” Heimdall said, smoothing down the wrinkles he’d put in your skirt.

You shot him a glare and grabbed your jacket. “I never should have… what was I thinking?”

“You were thinking to torment me with your teasing ways. I was no better.” He pulled your hair from the back of your jacket.

You gave thanks for small miracles. Having left it down, at least you weren’t explaining your messed hairdo on top of everything else. The door disengaged its locks as you stepped into your shoes and spun back around to the table to complete your notes.

“What the hell was that, FRIDAY?” Tony was grumbling as he shoved the door inward.

Unwilling to turn around until you had your face under better control, you fought hard not to flinch when Tony’s eyes landed on you. You could practically feel them boring into the side of your head.

“Well, well, well…” Tony murmured. “Perhaps that glitch with the door was  _ not _ such a glitch after all?”

“How would I know?” Heimdall answered, placing his big body between you and the three crowding the door. “We have been getting me suited out as Fury requested.”

“Suited up,” you murmured.

“Hm?” He asked, peering back at you with a twinkle in his eye.

“It’s suited up,” you said, aware now he’d done it on purpose. “Kitted out but suited up.”

“Ah, my thanks, fair lady.” He tilted his head in a manner most regal and held out his hand. “If we are finished?”

“FRIDAY? Have you got everything you need?” you asked the lifesaving AI, avoiding Heimdall’s hand.

“Measurements are all calculated and Heimdall’s gear is in production already.”

“Great!” you chirped, much too cheerily, but  _ god _ did you need out of this room. There were far too many people staring at you, including the overly large  _ god _ who’d so thoroughly messed with your system. “Okay, so, we’re done. I’m done. We’re good. I need to go do… something else… now, haha! Okay. Yup.  _ Bye _ !”

_ Subtle _ . _ Well done, dumbass. _

Head down and clipboard clutched tightly to your chest, you skirted the three men in the doorway and dashed away as quickly as your heels would allow.

Unfortunately, Bucky seemed uninclined to let you rush off and caught you by the door out of the warehouse.

“Hey, doll face? Everything alright?” he asked, taking you by the arm.

“Fine, fine. Everything’s fine,” you mumbled, keeping your face down.

“You sure?” he stepped closer and took your chin in his hand. He lifted your face, but you couldn’t look at him. “You’re red as one of Tony’s suits and your skirt is torn.”

“It’s fine, Bucky.”

He frowned. “And you won’t look at me. Did Heimdall do something? Touch you inappropriately? Did he hurt you?”

“What!?” Your eyes snapped up to his. “No!”

“Well, you’re acting funny as hell,” he muttered. “You’re all mussed up, flushed, jittery… oh… _ oh _ !” His eyes got very round before a smirk worked its way across his lips. “Maybe the inappropriate touching was welcome, hm?”

“Shut up, Barnes!” you barked, jerking away and rushing out the door.

His laughter followed you down the hallway to the elevator.

You fled to your office where you shut and locked the door and flopped into your chair. Your head thunked when it landed on the desk. “Dear Lord…” you moaned. “I’m so fired.”

***

It was late by the time you unlocked your office and returned to the real world beyond paperwork and numbers. No one had come knocking to inform you, you were being let go. Nor had they showed up to warn you to behave yourself on company time. No one had shown up to say anything. That didn’t mean you were off the hook, just that you’d been reprieved for at least one more day. But, man, had you cleared up some backlog in your terror.

With a quiet sigh, you flinched, your feet hurting after spending the day in those shoes. You were tired, hungry, a bundle of nerves, and horny as hell. Images of Heimdall had tormented you. Memories of the look on his face when he’d asked you all those questions, touched you, taunted you, and made your body ache, plagued you.

It had made work extremely difficult.

You’d caught yourself more than once daydreaming off into space. It had been ridiculously fun to tease the big man, right up until the moment you’d nearly gotten caught.

A small groan escaped you. Bucky was never going to let you live this down.

Another sigh worked its way past your lips, and you paused to slip the heels off your feet. The base was quiet. The office areas dark. Everyone was long since gone for the day and no one would care if you wandered through the office in your stocking covered feet.

It wasn’t until you were a few yards from the elevator you realized someone was following you. The sense of being watched was unmistakable, as were the quiet but present footfalls at your back. Your pace increased, not enough to give yourself away, but enough to move you toward the elevator with more speed.

“You run from me now?”

Your shriek of terror echoed through the office.

“Dammit, Heimdall!” you bellowed, turning to face the big, grinning man. “You scared a year off my life!” He had the audacity to laugh which sent you huffing off toward the elevator a second time. “Big jerk,” you muttered.

“Come now, little one. If you had not hidden from me all day, I would not have needed to lie in wait for you.”

“I wasn’t  _ hiding _ . I was working!” You punched the down button with much more force than needed.

He crowded up behind you, the heat of him coating your backside. “Are you angry with me?” he asked.

A glance back had you sighing. He looked worried. “No. You’re just a convenient target. I’m mad at myself.” The elevator doors opened and you walked in, Heimdall quick to follow.

“Why?”

You looked at him again, looming at your side, and had to swallow twice to find your voice, better able to see him in the brightly lit elevator. He’d changed clothes and now the black sweater with its three big horn buttons at the collar complemented charcoal slacks. It all looked exceptionally soft, touchably so, and you had to hold yourself back from jumping him in the elevator.

“Because,” you sighed, swinging your shoes and feeling even shorter than ever, “I never should have taken things as far as I did. It was really inappropriate for work. I just… I felt,” you looked away from gleaming amber eyes, “kind of sexy and weirdly confident when you… when you… looked at me like that.”

He stepped into you and caged you against the wall. “And how did I look at you?”

You swallowed the desire to squeak and stared up at him. “Like… like now. Like… you want to eat me.”

“Oh, little one.” He dipped his head to breathe against your ear, “You have no idea how badly I want to eat you.”

Your knees gave out. “Hei-Heimdall!”

His arm snaked around your waist and kept you on your feet. “Since that tiny taste of you, I have been aching for more. Not even the stern scolding from the Captain could deter my desire.”

“Scolding? Steve?” you asked, surprised. “Why would he give you a talking to?”

He pulled you from the wall and brushed your hair back behind your ear. “It seems you gave them the impression I was doing something you  _ didn’t _ like. They thought I was pressing you, fair lady. That I was forcing you into something unwanted. At least… until Sergeant Barnes returned and set their minds at ease.”

“Oh, crap,” you whimpered, dropping your forehead to his chest.

_ Damn, it is soft… _ The sweater had you turning your head to lay your cheek against it.

“It seems you were most agreeable to my treatment of you if a little embarrassed for getting caught.”

“I’m so fired,” you moaned.

A quiet chuckle rumbled under your ear. “Hardly. There was much teasing, some scowling, a stern warning not to get frisky in the vault a second time, and to not let it affect your work. Ah, yes, and I was to tell you Lady FRIDAY is not a girlfriend to be used to cover for you, to which she then proceeded to tell Stark she would do what she damn well pleased.”

A bark of laughter exploded at that. “FRIDAY is awesome.”

“I would have told you all this earlier, but your door remained locked. Sergeant Barnes has agreed to assist in explaining the sniper rifle, and will meet me tomorrow in the afternoon to go over the basics.”

“You’ve been busy,” you said, impressed.

“You have no idea,” he growled, leaning closer to steal a kiss from your lips.

Breathless, you swayed into him when he finally let you go. “Wow.”

Another quiet chuckle escaped him. “Tell me something, little one. Of all those  _ measurements _ you took, how many were completely unnecessary?”

You bit your lip and looked up at him through your lashes. “A few.”

“Only a few?”

“Quite a few,” you snickered. “Especially as FRIDAY could have done a quick scan and had what she needed in seconds.” You were suddenly elevated against the wall, pressed and held there.

“And if we hadn’t been interrupted? What would your answer have been?” His eyes gleamed with amber and gold stars, with dark nebulas and the fire of a thousand suns.

“I guess we’ll never know,” you quipped.

He growled and you giggled, feeling better now that you knew you weren’t on the chopping block. The elevator slowed to a stop. Heimdall set you back on your feet but took your hand, capturing it in his big one so you couldn’t escape him.

“Where are we going?”

“As you have avoided eating all day, I thought it best to feed you.” He looked back at you over his shoulder and leveled a devil smile your way, setting your heart pounding. “Before we finish what we started.”

_ Oh boy… _

Excitement warred with trepidation before curiosity kicked in. “Where are we going?” The kitchen was the other direction.

“You’ll see.” A second devil grin showed off pearly whites.

Your insides sat up and begged.

He paused before a door in a long corridor and pushed it open, motioning you inside. You frowned a little but stepped through the opening only to give a soft gasp of wonder.

It was a suite no different than yours, but his, still rather sparse for furniture, had been staged with dozens of squat candles. A table set for two waited just beyond the sofa, and quiet music played. Halsey with her sexy, soft voice purred through the speakers.  

“Oh, it’s so pretty,” you whispered, smiling up at Heimdall when he closed the door and the locks engaged.

He stole your shoes from your fingers and dropped them beside the door. “If they bother your feet, why wear them?”

“They make my ass look good,” you said without thinking.

Eyeing you, Heimdall led you toward the table. “You need no assistance in that area. Your ass always looks good.”

You blushed a little harder but didn’t think it too noticeable in the soft light. “How did you… do all this?” you asked, waving at the candles and the table.

“You forget. I have spent ages watching the comings and goings of the universe. It was not difficult to arrange.” He pulled out a chair, but instead of offering it to you to sit, he turned to you and plucked free the buttons on your jacket. Once he’d slid it down your arms, he carefully folded it over the back of the sofa. “You will not need this any longer.”

“No?” you whispered, caught again in the spell of his eyes.

When he cupped your cheek and traced his thumb over your bottom lip, he smiled. “No.”

“Heimdall?” you sighed when he took you by the waist and encouraged you into him. “What is this?”

He sat on the chair he’d pulled out, and tugged you down into his lap. Seated on his firm thigh, yours brushed the front of his pants before he lifted your legs to rest across both of his and cause your feet to dangle. “Did you not tell me to do both?”

“Both… what?” you whispered, sliding your arm around his neck while the other hand came to rest on his wide chest. It dawned on you suddenly you were finally alone with him in a room which would not get you in trouble should you chose to get naked with him.

A big hand was sliding over the tight fabric of your skirt, skimming down to cup your ass and lift you into his chest, drawing you closer to his plush lips. You wanted to scratch your nails lightly through the coarse hair of his beard and wondered if it would feel soft or rough against the tender skin of your thighs.

“To woo you like a gentleman and take you like a beast.” His other hand was suddenly in your hair, buried deep, dragging your head back and making you gasp in startled arousal. “So I will feed you, little one, and I will touch you, and I will have you wet and panting for me before I take you in the other room and have you in a most  _ un _ gentlemanly manner.”

“Oh, boy…” spilled from your lips. You weren’t sure if it was in fear or excitement or a strange combination of both, but it set his amber eyes blazing. “Or… or we could skip right to dessert?”

_ Definitely excitement. _

His brow arched. A smile twitched his lips. “Eager are we?”

You turned further into him and lifted your hand to touch his beard. The hair was short and thick, but softer than you expected. It felt like densely packed velvet or suede. You stroked it, humming at the feel of it beneath your fingers. “You have no idea.”

A growl ripped through his chest. “Show me how eager. Take off your skirt.”

It was a command wrapped in a dare, but he had that look again. The one which said if you did as he asked, if you  _ obeyed _ the order, you would be well rewarded.

It was a no-brainer.

You pushed from him, getting slowly to your feet to stand beside the table. The confidence you’d felt earlier was back, and your desire to tease, just a little, to make him as hot for you as you were for him returned with a vengeance.

His eyes gleamed gold in an instant when you ran your hands over your body, a slow caress meant to make him think it was his hands. You bit your lip, tugging it between your teeth to his smile of appreciation, and reached behind you to pop the little hook and eye clasp at the top of the zipper. He seemed to enjoy the view of your ass, so you turned around, gave him your back, and slowly pulled your cami from your waistband.

The she-devil you’d discovered earlier, the flaming goddess, was back and filling your head with wicked whispers all bent on driving the giant of a man mad with desire. You pulled your shirt over your head, smirking when he groaned. Your palms glided up your thighs, your body twisting just a touch to the music. It made you wonder absently who had given him the idea for the music. Sultry, deep, and sexy, it was like he’d found all your favorites and rolled them into the playlist for the evening.

Your hands skimmed over the generous curve of your ass where you paused a moment, making sure he had his eyes exactly where you wanted them. The fire of lust seemed to burn with heat on the place his gaze rested. Another smug smile twitched your lips when you finally reached for the zipper and tugged it down. The fabric parted, revealing the dip of your spine, the red of your garter belt, and the black of your thong.

Hooking your thumbs in the waistband, you shimmied it slowly over your hips, back and forth in a little tick-tock rhythm, thrusting out your ass to give him the best view when your skirt finally cleared the widest part of your hips and fell straight to the floor.

You turned around to face him again and wished you left your shoes on for the effect would have been even better. He looked utterly enraptured, jaw clenching, hands twitching, and gaze raking over your body. On the table sat two glasses, both filled already from the open bottle of red wine, and you reached for one, lifting it to your lips for a sip.

“Come here, woman.” His voice had dropped an entire octave.

You stepped closer, a smirk on your face for your little show had quite successfully tented his pants. “Here, my god Heimdall?” you asked, stepping between his spread thighs.

Big hands lightly touched your knees, skimming over your stockings and up to gently pull at your garters. They snapped the elastic but the sting only warmed your core. They continued up, caressed around, cupped and lifted both bare cheeks of your ass. Back to your hips, his thumbs rubbed circles on your soft belly, squeeze on your ribs, and shift up to cup your breasts.

“Such…  _ fascinating _ fashions,” he rumbled, dragging his fingertips over your lace and satin bra. They traced slow patterns over your stomach, returning to the swatch of fabric covering your core. “Especially these. They serve little purpose but to entice a man to tear them off.”

He didn’t tear, though, he simply caught the waist at your hips, and worked them down over your garter belt. “You won’t need those any longer. Turn around and sit,” he commanded.

Your legs quivered, unable to deny the way his orders made you feel. You took another sip of the wine and set it down. His hands caressed and squeezed your ass when you turned your back to him, leaving you breathless. They landed on your hips and tugged, pulling you down to feel his hard cock wedge against the cheeks of your ass. He split your thighs and draped one over each of his as he encouraged you to lean back, rest against his chest.

“Stay right there, little one. Right where I can appreciate all of you.”

The man was going to be your death. Your heart pounded. Mind whirled. You were barely able to register him pulling the dome off the dish beside you until the scent of food filled your nose and made your stomach growl.

“See? You are famished. You must eat to gain strength for what is to come.” The sweet tang of fruit enveloped your senses but when you made to look, he caught your chin. “Close your eyes and open your mouth.”

A rush of heat and wet caused your womb to clench.

On a shuddering breath, you parted your lips. Something cool but firm pressed against the bottom one. The sweet scent of strawberry had you biting into the lush berry. It disappeared from your lips only to reappear in a wet glide down the side of your throat. The caress made you moan.

Hot and wet, Heimdall’s tongue slid up your skin, collecting the berry’s juice, while warm and hard his free hand fell to your core.

You whined, quaking beneath the onslaught of sensations.

“How wet you are,” he crooned against your ear. “How deliciously wet.” Gentle strokes spread your slickness around, coating his fingers.

This time something softer pressed to your lip. The peach was ripe, it’s juice dribbling down your chin when he tucked the last bite between your teeth. He cradled your cheek, turning your face back at a sharp angle to catch the drips, licking and sweeping his tongue over your chin and lips and finally delving between when he kissed you like a man starving.

No more words passed between you as he fed you bits of things, fruit, cheese, tender cuts of meat and chilled shrimp. How he’d managed to get it all right, everything you liked, nothing you didn’t, amazed you, but you were unable to speak your praise. When your mouth wasn’t busy with food, it was occupied by his. When it was busy, his lips found homes on your throat, your nape, your shoulder. His teeth nipped in and plucked at your skin. Fruit was traced in patterns on your flesh, leaving behind a sticky mess he was more than happy to clean up with his tongue.

His busy fingers kept up a constant flow of contact between your legs. He pet you as if appeasing an affection seeking kitten, and you purred beneath the pleasure. Hot streaks of need burned through your body, shaking your thighs and arching your spine when the sizzle of lust crackled through you.

Your eyes remained closed, heightening your other senses. The sound of the second dome being lifted had you quivering in anticipation. Your hands had long ago made his thighs their home, and you clenched your nails into them when the warm, sticky substance coated the sensitive point between your neck and shoulder.

“You have the softest skin,” he crooned, lapping at it as his teasing fingers began a slow circle of your hard clit. “Open your mouth.”

Warm and slick, his chocolate covered finger made you moan and suck to rid him of the substance.

“That’s right, little one. Suck it clean.”

His words made you shiver, your desire seeming to boil in your veins, sending a bead of sweat trickling between your breasts.

_ There was something you’d like to suck. _

The hand between your legs suddenly plunged a finger deep, and you cried out around the one between your lips, arching into the touch.

“You have soaked my hand with your desire, my lady. It drips from my wrist. I have not touched more than your pretty cunny and shapely shoulder, but yet, you are steps from release, aren’t you?”

You gave a frantic nod. “Heimdall,  _ please _ !” you begged when his finger left your mouth.

His big hand closed around your throat, lifting your chin and holding you suspended on the brink of bliss. “Taking orders  _ and _ begging.” He pressed his lips to your ear and whispered, “How very unlikely of you, my sweet (Y/N).”

The teasing tone made you whimper. “Please…” you pleaded, rocking into his hand and grinding back on the thick erection pressed against your ass.

A second finger joined the first. His thrusts sped up and the coil in your belly wound tighter. The hand at your throat fell to cup your breast through your bra, sending a bolt of heat straight to the inferno building between your legs when he grazed your nipple.

“You are close. I can feel your tight sheath beginning to clench. Do you want to come, little one? Do you need it? Have you been longing for it all day?”

“Yes!” you cried out arching into his hands.

“Then do so,” he snarled, biting down on your shoulder, his hips starting to thrust in time with yours. His fingers curled, stroked against your sweet spot.

The tight coil didn’t just snap, it shattered, delivering a force of pleasure like an avalanche. It shrieked through your system, tumbling you over into ecstasy, slamming you into waves of release so strong your entire body bowed. The scream you released was loud, long, and ended with a moan so wanton it was hard to believe it had come from you.

Heimdall grunted with it, laying tender kisses along your shoulder as you panted and shook, vision hazy and full of spots.

“Such a good girl. So lovely. So responsive.” He whispered praises between kisses, nipping, licking, and biting at your throat and ear.

His breathing was coming in heavy pants, and he reached out to grab the second glass of wine. When it landed back on the table, it was empty and Heimdall swept you up into his arms. “I am done playing the gentleman,” he growled.

You glanced up at him. At his antique gold eyes gleaming with lust and desire. They looked wild, feral. Like he’d seen something he could no longer live without.

Somehow you found strength in your arms to reach up, wrap them over his shoulders and bury your fingers in his wealth of dreads. “Then lose the hair tie and take me to bed, Heimdall. Show me the beast.”

  
  
  



	5. Chapter 5

You cast a glance around the room and smiled at the dark interior. Here, too, there were candles. Some reflecting in the mirror on the dresser. More on the nightstand. A few lighting the way to the washroom. His bedroom was awash in deep, rich tones. Dark browns and golds interspersed with navy. It really didn’t surprise you how masculine his space was. It suited him somehow.

His bed, however, was the biggest one you’d ever seen, larger than a traditional king, and took up a good portion of the room. What with his height and width, it made sense he’d have a very large bed. Navy duvet and crisp white sheets were already turned down to the foot, and he had far more pillows on it than you’d ever imagined a man having, propped against the wrought iron headboard.

“You really did make plans,” you said, giving him a smile.

“Many, many plans,” he rumbled, the sound vibrating in his chest. He made his way across the room to kneel up on the bed and place you in the center. “Starting with touching-”

The pounding on the door cut him off. Heimdall lifted his head to glare that direction. “You have got to be joking.”

“Crap… what? Who’s that?” you asked.

He growled, sending a shiver through your insides, and stood to his full height. “I’ll kill them.”

“Who?” you asked again, rising up on your elbows, but he was already striding from the room, his hand grabbing the door to pull it mostly closed behind him.

You laid there and listened as he wrenched open the exterior door, cutting off the noise.

“Can I help you, Captain? Sergeant?”

“Uh… we heard a rather loud scream?” Steve said.

“Just checking on things,” Bucky agreed. From the state of his voice, you knew he’d be standing there all frowny, arms over his chest, and a stern scowl on his face.

“Are you freaking kidding me?” you muttered, unable to believe them.

“Everything is fine. Lady (Y/N) and I have been spending a pleasant evening together. One I would very much like to get back to,” Heimdall said, his voice rather cold.

“Look, we just want to make sure she’s alright. It was a really loud scream.” This from the Captain was more than enough to have you seeing red and you slapped a hand to your face.

There was a white t-shirt hanging over the back of a chair, and you scooted off the bed to pick it up and tug it on. It made your head swim for it smelled like Heimdall. It fell off your shoulder, the neck quite wide, and down to the tops of your stockings.

The bedroom door banged against the wall with far more force than needed when you wrenched it open and stomped across the carpet to plant yourself at Heimdall’s side. “What the hell do you two think you’re doing?” you barked, slamming your hands on your hips.

Steve blushed, Bucky grinned, and Heimdall peered down at you with a raised brow.

“Little one…”

“Just a second.“ You held up your hand. “You two need to butt the hell out of  _ my _ business. That’s right,  _ mine _ ! What I choose to do and who with has nothing to do with either of you and if Heimdall’s lovemaking bothers you both so much, buy some goddamned noise-canceling headphones or get a girl of your own so you can compete!” With the last word, you slammed the door in their faces.

“Pain in the ass super soldiers and their super-powered ears!” you snarled, knowing damn well they could still hear you.

Heimdall’s fingers caught your chin and tilted your face up. “While I appreciate you coming to my defense, you do realize that shirt leaves very little to the imagination.”

“Huh?” You looked down at yourself and gasped. The super thin shirt did little to hide the black of your bra or the red of your garter belt. It may have been big and loose but the material clung to all your curves. “Oh, shit!”

He was laughing when he picked you up around the waist and slung you over his shoulder. “You are so precious.”

“Heimdall!” you giggled uncontrollably.

He patted your butt and ducked beneath the doorway, kicking the door closed behind him. This time when he set you on the bed it was feet first, letting you slide down his chest to land on the mattress. You clung to his shoulders, soaking in the heat of his big body. His hands settled on your hips and flexed, pressing into your flesh. Even standing on his bed you were still quite a bit shorter than him.

“Damn you’re tall,” whispered from your lips.

“Perhaps it is you who are short,” he teased, sliding his hands down to cup your naked bottom beneath his shirt. He tugged you closer, bringing you up on your toes against him.

His sweater was so soft beneath your fingertips you began to pet it and his shoulders to trace the outline of his muscle through it. “I believe I told you to lose the hair tie.” You arched a brow and reached behind him to where the leather wrap held back his dreads. All it took was a small tug to have the queue dropping to the floor and the thick, heavy locks falling forward.

You ran your fingers down one, finding them like his beard to be densely packed. The hair itself was thicker, but the texture was soft. They were beautiful and somehow so fitting on him, making him appear dangerous, warrior strong, and ancient even in his modern clothing. Add in his amber eyes which were shading rapidly back into gold, and you couldn’t fault yourself for the shiver it sent down your spine or the desire which pooled sharply in your belly.

Big hands squeezed your buttocks before drifting up, taking the bottom of his shirt with them to strip it over your head. “And I believe I told you to stay here, but there you go, defying orders again to appear at my side and scold the two men who have the  _ biggest _ crushes on you I have ever seen while wearing nothing but my shirt and half of your underthings.”

Your soft laugh came out as more of a snort of disbelief. “I think your eyes deceive you, oh mighty Guardian of Asgard.”

He dropped his shirt to the floor and returned his hands to your waist. “I think, my small lady, you cannot see the forest for the trees. However, I have no desire to enlighten you further.”

Big warm hands smoothed over your skin, up your ribcage, along the edge of your bra, and down to trace the red lace riding your hips. It was an effective move for it quite thoroughly shut down any current train of thought or protest you’d been about to voice. Your primal brain seemed to kick in, take over, and set you arching into those gentle hands with their slightly rough calluses. A sound which could only be described as a purr of pleasure burst from you. Your eyelids drifted closed, and you wallowed in the feel of his hands on your body for the second time. They sparked fires deep inside which burned like small suns. All heat and light and  _ want _ so strong you had a hard time breathing.

His mouth settled on yours, lips soft. Seeking. They sipped and sucked; his teeth nipped and nibbled. The sweep of his tongue over your bottom one made you sigh and part your lips for his entrance. He tasted of wine and chocolate and something which was simply Heimdall. It was dark, potent, and you grew drunk on the taste.

Shivers skated constantly up your spine, little jolts of electricity which shook your very foundations. You would have thought he was the God of Thunder with how the lightning seemed to walk your skin. He did things to you, made your body yearn in ways you’d never known were possible.

When his mouth finally released yours to trail gentle kisses down your jaw, you took a gasping breath and moaned deeply. You could feel his smile against your throat, the scuff of his beard against your shoulder when plush lips parted to allow his teeth to close on the sensitive spot beneath them. His hair left tingles of sensation across your chest, the dreads skimming your flesh in the most pleasant fashion, it was impossible not to mewl out a cry of intense delight.

“Heimdall,” fell from your lips. A prayer. A curse. A desperate plea. You weren’t sure which and couldn’t think past the pleasure to figure it out.

Deft fingers found and released the clasp on your bra. He placed a sweet kiss on your jaw and pulled away far enough to slip the straps down your arms and off to fall to the floor with his shirt.

“Look at you, little one.” His fingers stroked the valley between your breasts. He traced the curves, cupped and weighed them. His thumbs stroked over the beaded peaks in rhythmic passes to which you softly whimpered.

You found his eyes hot and focused when you forced your eyelids open. They glowed a rich gold in the soft candlelight. A wolf’s eyes. A hunter’s eyes. Eyes which seemed to see into your soul and draw out the very essence of who you were.

There was no hiding from those eyes, but there was also no reason to. He looked at you with reverence, with want, with desire, and you took a step back to sink to your knees in the middle of his enormous bed.

You tilted your head and smiled. “I think you’re overdressed.”

A chuckle, deep and sexy rippled through the air while his hands went to the bottom of his sweater. Delight filled his eyes before the fabric obscured his face from view as he pulled the article of clothing off.

A quiet sigh left your lips when he dropped the sweater to the floor. “Oh… wow… big,” came out a breathy moan.

He laughed, and the sultry sound raised gooseflesh on your arms when he prowled up on the bed with you, working his way toward you on all fours, and tumbled you to your back. “This is a surprise?” he teased.

“It’s just different when you have clothes on,” you murmured, lifting your hands to touch his chest only to hover an inch away. It looked like silk, smooth and soft, but there were scars. So many scars. Crisscrossing lines of raised flesh marked him, but it didn’t detract from the perfection of his heavy pecs and sculpted abdominals, only added to it, giving him an air of danger he really didn’t need. “I know you’re  _ big _ but like this…” you gently laid your hands on his chest, the difference apparent with how small they looked when viewed in comparison to his muscles. “Heimdall… you’re kind of… huge.”

A frown marred his forehead as he settled at your side, one hand spanning your waist while the other held him up on his elbow. “Does this concern you?”

You shook your head and slowly began to explore the wide expanse of his torso. “I feel… small, but not fragile. Delicate, but not in danger. You make me feel… safe,” you whispered, “I think you could hold up the world if you needed to.”

He was like Atlas to you, so big and strong. It was comforting to feel surrounded by such power. To be cherished by such strength. It left you lightheaded and giddy to be there, caught up in the spell created by his voice, and his touch, and his eyes.

“For you, (Y/N), I would try.” He rose over you, hands to either side of your head and thighs straddling yours. “To me, you are small but fiery. Delicate, but not easily broken. You have a heart of compassion, and a mind full of mischief. You are shy, yet bold. So innocent, yet so passionate. You are a bundle of contradictions wrapped up in a most exquisite package.” As he spoke, making your heart both melt and pound, he shifted backward, working down your body with seemingly infinite patience. “I look forward to discovering more of you.”

Kisses dotted your skin and stole your breath. He stopped on his downward journey to lave his tongue over both of your breasts and suck on the hard peaks of your nipples. Patterns were drawn over skin grown warm and flushed with his actions. At your hips he paused, his eyes never leaving yours. His fingers skimmed the red lace of your garter belt, drifted down the elastics to the clips hold up your stockings and snapped them open one by one. When he was through, he shifted back a few more inches, cupped and lifted the backs of your knees to draw your shins out from between his thighs. He settled one to the bed on the outside of his body, while bringing your other foot to rest flat on his thigh. His fingers skimmed slowly up your calf to find the top of your stocking, and begin the torturous task of rolling it down.

He massaged every inch of newly exposed flesh, fingers digging in gently, making you moan and quake until the sheer fabric slipped from your foot and his thumb pressed into your arch.

A sharp inhale of breath became a shuddering exhale of unbelievable pleasure.

“Breathe, little one. There is more to come,” he said softly, watching you intently, his smile soft and pleased as he bent and kissed your knee. He changed legs and began the process anew.

It drove you to a place you’d never know existed. A place where you felt like you hung on a precipice of such exquisite pleasure, you couldn’t even imagine it.

A slow caress of wandering fingers returned to your garter belt. It too was shimmied slowly over your hips and down your legs to your knees where he looked at you expectantly and you lifted your legs up for him to tug the garment away.

He backed off the bed but took you by the ankles, his fingers strong in their grip but tender in their hold. A swift jerk had you sliding to the edge of the mattress, surprising a nervous giggle from you as he settled on his knees. Your thighs went to his shoulders and you were helpless to do anything but watch as the feral light from earlier returned to his eyes.

“I have wanted to devour you since earlier today, my sweet woman. Know now, I will not stop until I am satisfied with your offering.”

Your eyes widened.  _ Oh… shit! _

Something about the way he said  _ satisfied with your offering  _ had butterflies taking flight in your belly. “Heimdall… what-” You never got the chance to finish the question for he dove in, swiping his tongue straight up your core. One arm banded over your waist, holding you down when you cried out and arched upward, while the other hand dipped his thumb into your opening.

“Such a sweet cunny,” he crooned, slumberous gaze lifting to yours. “Bathe me in offerings, my small lady, soak me in your essence and I will reward you for it.”

There were no more words from him after that, only small growls and big ones, hums of appreciation, and chuckles of vibration when the torrent of words flowed from you.

“Oh  _ god _ ! Fuck! Shit… Holy… my god…  _ Heimdall _ !”

None of them made much sense, but they continued to pour from your lips as his tongue and teeth and beard drove you to distraction. Made you blind to everything but the feel of him between your legs. Your hands went to his hair, fisting in the dreads which tickled your palms and thighs. The pleasure of his lips on you, his teeth on your nub, and his tongue thrusting into your pussy had the tension in your core winding to excruciating heights. A constant stream of  _ oh god, oh god, oh god _ tumbled from your mouth as his thumb pressed down, working with his tongue to tease the outer few inches of your core and drive you wild.

Arching up, your back bowed, fighting the restricting band of his arm across your hips, and throat strained with your need to scream. Heimdall pressed his tongue firmly against your aching bundle of nerves and swept it in a figure eight around the small jewel. You felt strung out, hung up, stalled on the brink of climax until he pressed his thumb deeper and flicked your clit hard.

Your shriek made your ears ring with its volume. Your thighs clamped around Heimdall’s head, and he had to tighten his hold on your hips to keep you from writhing away. “Fuck. Fuck.  _ Fuck _ !” you squealed when he didn’t stop but continued on to lick and lap and suck on you.

His thumb was replaced by a thick finger, sliding through your clenching walls to thrust slowly in and out and drive you almost insane.

“Heimdall!” you cried out, but still he wouldn’t relent, and soon a second twisting coil was growing in your belly. This one deeper, bigger, harder than the last. It shook your thighs, and set you gasping, panting for breath, trying desperately to get some oxygen in you before the damn broke a second time and flooded you with fire.

A second finger joined the first, scissored gently, and stroked along your walls sending you tipping over into another screaming orgasm. The pleasure pulsed in time with your rapidly beating heart. Your vision whited out as you sobbed, so lost to the world, wrapped up in the bliss of your body, you had no idea you were jerking on his hair.

It seemed only to egg him on as he growled deeply, forced your thighs from his ears, and spread you wide to feast like an animal. His tongue was thrust between your squeezing walls, lapping and sucking, taking everything you had to give and leaving nothing behind. His lips closed over your throbbing bundle of nerves and sucked gently while his tongue continued to sweep and circle, torment and tease over the hard bit of flesh.

The third climax built so rapidly, all you could do was scream when the pleasure peaked. A fire seemed to scorch its way through your veins, burn you, cleanse you, leaving you weak but made new as a fresh rush of fluid flooded your core and Heimdall hummed his pleasure.

He didn’t lift his head, but the incessant attention to your clit ceased, though he continued to lick slowly at your swollen lips while your body shook and convulsed, and tears slipped down your temples to soak your hair.

When he’d had enough, apparently satisfied, he turned his mouth into your thigh, his beard rubbing in the most wonderful way, and kissed you on the plush appendage. He got slowly to his feet, lips, and chin and chest glistening in the candlelight.

A blush formed on your face for having come so hard you’d quite soaked him with it. He stood there, smiling at you like you’d pleased him beyond measure, and you smiled shyly back.

“That’s never happened before.”

“Hm. Delightful.” He licked his lips, hands going to the button on his pants. “Your offering was most satisfactory.” He shucked his trousers and the tent in his briefs showed just how much he’d enjoyed what he’d been doing.

Feeling rather boneless, it took two tries to make your muscles work so you could sit up, pull your knees beneath you and rise up to be eye level with his last bit of clothing. “May I?” you asked, dragging your nails lightly over his thighs. You’d thought he’d had tree trunks for legs earlier today, but now, face to face and nearly nude, the muscles in them made your mouth water.

“May you what, little one?” he asked, his grin rather devious.

You looked the long way up to antique gold eyes and palmed him through his briefs. “Might I relieve you of these, my god Heimdall?”

He cupped your chin, stroked his thumb over your bottom lip and gave it a tug. “Yes.“

  
  
  



	6. Chapter 6

You curled your fingers into the waistband of his briefs and slowly peeled them back. Inch by inch the sharp angle of his iliac furrow was revealed, the groove slanting inward. A smattering of hair covered his lower abdomen, thickening in the middle into a path leading down into the confines of his underwear.

It made you hum, imagining what was to come, the anticipation growing and renewing the wetness on your thighs. You skimmed your fingers around behind him to roll the waistband down over his pert behind. Your nails dragged, sinking gently into his skin when you brought them back to the front.

His briefs caught on the head of his cock, and you smiled before peering up at him smugly. “I guess I’m not the only one who’s eager.”

“Take them off, and I will gladly show you just how eager.” Golden eyes blazed, and his face was a mask of passion, want, _d_ _esire_ , when he cupped your chin.

Your fingers traced the length of his cock, whispered over his head caught in the fabric and peeled it back, revealing finally the bulbous crown and long, thick shaft you’d only felt before. “Hot…  _ damn… _ ” you whispered, pulling his briefs down his heavy thighs to his knees, releasing them so they dropped around his ankles. “Wow.”

“You will give me a swelled head, little one, with such praise,” he teased.

“Swelled something alright,” you murmured, sliding your hands up his thighs. 

His breath hissed out when you wrapped both hands around him. Hard and thick and long, he was everything a god should be and sent a shiver of anticipation and mild trepidation racing your spine.

You explored the length and girth of him, learning every ridge and every vein. Hot and heavy, he was beautifully made. When the glistening drop beaded on his tip, you leaned forward and licked it off, setting the both of you groaning. You at the flavor, him at the feeling. Your lips parted on a breathy moan as you took him in your mouth. Skin like silk glided over your tongue. Big and hard, he stretched your lips and his tip kissed the back of your throat.

His hands collected your hair, drawing it up into a tail he used with meticulousness to guide you over his length. “Chin up, little one,” he coaxed, tugging with gentle force. “Look up, darling and show me those pretty eyes.”

You blinked them open, not even sure when you’d closed them, to gaze up at Heimdall. Heavy-lidded eyes looked back, jaw clenched, muscles tight as he began to slowly thrust into your mouth.

“Good girl, such a good girl,” he praised, sliding his cock further into your throat with each pass.

Whether it was some magic of his or the taste of his skin, the fierceness of your arousal or simply your desire to be there, under his control, giving up every part of yourself to him, you didn’t know or care, but never in your life had you managed to fight off your gag reflex like you could with him.

“That’s it, little one. Take it all, _ fuck _ ,” he snarled when your throat convulsed around him. Fire lit in his eyes. “You are enjoying this aren’t you? Is your cunny dripping again, sweet (Y/N)?”

You unwrapped one hand from him to delved down, swipe through your aching folds, and lift your fingers to show him how much.

His fingers instantly captured yours and drew them to his mouth where he sucked in time to the thrusts of his hips. “Mmm, like the mead in Valhalla,” he crooned.

A moan hummed in your throat with how hot that made you, and he gritted his teeth together before pulling swiftly from your mouth. “You are most adept at that, my little lady. Should I be jealous of your skill? Has your mouth pleasured many a man to be such a torment?”

You swallowed, wiped your wet chin, and shook your head. “Something about you makes it easier,” you admitted, hoping your flush appeared as one of exertion and not the mild embarrassment you were feeling. “I thought, maybe, it was magic. Your magic.”

He chuckled, hearty and deep, and bent to wrap his arm around your bare back. “I have a magic of a sort, my lady, but not of that nature. Perhaps it is just you who fits me so well.” He pressed a kiss to your cheek, then one to your lips as he lifted you up to take you higher on the bed.

The brush of his skin over yours, hot but smooth and soft like velvet made you shudder and arch into him, long for him to be closer. Your hands scrambled for purchase, wrapped around his shoulders, and rolled your eyes back when everything flexed beneath your touch. “Heimdall… please.”

His knee slipped between yours, pressed up into the apex of your thighs and set you arching on a cry of delight. “Is this what you wanted?”

“Yes,” you moaned, grinding into his thigh. Beneath your fingertips, the heat of his body seemed to scorch through your palms, sending warmth through your veins. It was impossible not to touch him, take your hands over his shoulders and down his arms, back up and over his chest. They bumped over ridges and walked scars, skated old wounds and strong muscle.

“Little one, you have wonderful hands,” he sighed, his big palm skimming up your back as he laid you down, coming to rest on the back of your neck. He lifted you up enough to gently take your lips in a sensual kiss.

It sent a languid sensation through your limbs, and your hands stalled in their exploration, hung up on the deep groove above his collarbones. The sweep of his tongue over your lips had them parting, allowing him to slip into your mouth. His taste was spice and heat and a little flavor of wine and chocolate still. It was intoxicating, drugging, high inducing, and you sighed as you floated on the bliss.

When his head lifted, you opened your eyes to find golden ones gazing back at you full of emotion. Soft affection, admiration, desire. All swirled together in his beautiful eyes.

“Your kisses defy gravity,” you sighed happily.

“Do they now?” he asked, a smile turning up his lips.

“I feel like I’m floating when you kiss me.” You brought your hand up to gently stroke his beard, the hair feeling wonderful under your palm while you marveled at how strong he was.

His hold never wavered as he hovered above you. His palm was so big, it cradled your neck without effort. “Should I kiss you more and send you flying?” he asked, lowering you fully to the bed. He followed you down, his body pressing yours further into the mattress. The weight of his thigh trapped yours and his heavy cock rested on your hip. His hand stroked your skin, fingertips dragging along your throat and shoulder, over your breast and down your side to rub circles on your ribs.

“Heimdall,” you sighed, sliding your hands around his neck and into his hair.

“Sweet little one,” he murmured and kissed you again.

It stole your breath, but it was his hands which made you gasp when his big palm came up to squeeze and mold your breast.

His touch lit fires and sent bolts of electricity skipping through your veins.

You moaned and sighed, wrapped your free leg around his wide thigh and arched into it. The wet between your legs made him slick. It should have embarrassed you, how aroused you were, but you had never been so turned on in all your life.

Magic came when he shifted over you, spreading your thighs to settle between them. The thick wedge of his cock nudged into your heat, drove over your bundle of nerves with each gentle pulse of his hips. His mouth left yours to follow the line of your throat when you arched back, moaning and crying, unable to contain the sounds he drew forth.

Hands caressed and stroked, turning your body into a humming guitar string so close to snapping you could scream. His beard rubbed the tender flesh of your chest as he worked his way down with opened mouth kisses to suck and lick and torment your hard nipples.

Heimdall lifted his hand from your waist to wrap around your wrist and pull your fingers from his hair. He pressed your hand down near you head and repeated the action with the second, setting his dreads swinging free to fall across your skin.

You’d imagined it once, lost in the idea of what it would be like and now you knew. How glorious it was! How sensitive your skin was beneath those stroking tails. How wonderful they felt on your heated flesh. “Heimdall,” fell like a prayer from your lips as you looked down your body, trapped beneath his, at his mercy and on fire to the gleaming eyes of a pleasure-seeking god.

He rocked his hips in a steady rhythm and gazed up at you as his tongue worked in swirls and flicks over your breasts.

When you tried to bring your legs to his waist, he rumbled out a sound of displeasure and spread his thighs open, holding you there, hanging on the precipice and desperate for more.

“Heimdall…  _ please _ !” you begged, feeling hollow and empty.

“That’s it, my darling. Beg for me. Cry out for me.” The feral look was back in his eyes, growing with each growled word. With each nip to your flesh and suck of your skin, it burned hotter.

“My  _ God _ !” you cried, shaking from the onslaught of sensations. “ _ Please _ ! I need you, I want you, Heimdall! Oh,  _ please _ !”

He placed a soft kiss on your heart and rose up to nudge his nose against yours. “I am very big, my lady, and you are quite small.” The deep, sultry tone of his voice was heavenly as he drew back and notched his large cock against you. “You must be ready or I could hurt you.”

“Fuck, Heimdall! I’ve been ready all damn day!” you cried out, thrashing and arching against him only to have him drop a good portion of his weight down on top of you.

“Breathe,” he purred against your ear, fingers flexing on your wrists as he curled his hands beneath them, removing the pressure from your bones. “Breathe, beautiful. Breathe and take me in.”

He pressed forward and you gave a stuttering cry. The sensation was exquisite, a delicious burn and stretch. His height and hands definitely didn’t lie about what he was packing.

You panted softly, both from the intensity of the sensation and the weight of him making it hard to breathe.

His pace stayed slow and controlled even as you felt like you were losing your mind. When you thought he could go no further, you moaned and shook and clenched your fists, feeling him all the way to your belly.

“Almost there,” he crooned against your ear and pressed forward the final inch.

You damn near howled, the feeling mind-blowing when his hips settled into the cradle of yours. “Oh… my…  _ god _ !”

“Fuck you are tight,” he moaned and arched his back like a cat to return his mouth to your breasts.

“Holy… holy… shit,” you gasped as the orgasm grew in your belly without him even moving. There was a twitch now and then, a spasm as he shifted, but otherwise, he remained buried to the hilt, stretching you oh so deliciously, filled beyond capacity and unmoving. “What are…  _ oh fuck _ … you doing?” you asked, as he sucked and licked your breasts. The tender flesh sent whips of lightning singing through you with every flick and scrape of teeth.

He lifted his head enough to drag his beard across your flesh.

Your eyelids fluttered closed as your mouth fell open on a breathless moan.

“What did I promise you in the vault, little one?”

_ What? He wanted you to think? Now? _

“I… I…” Heart pounding, you shuddered when he rubbed his face across your breast a second time. A tight coil was winding like a spring in your belly, growing stronger with each passing second.

He switched to the opposite breast and worried your nipple with his teeth, sending his dreads cascading across your skin. “What did I promise would happen when I finally had you in my bed?”

The throbbing ache between your thighs grew stronger as your walls tried to flex on the length of steel stretching them so wide. Then, in a moment of clarity, his words came racing back.

_ I will sit there, buried deep, and bring you off with nothing more than my mouth on your breasts. You will beg me to move, but I will not. _

“Heimdall. Heimdall,  _ please _ !” you cried out, nearly frantic, straining against the hold he had on your wrists. “I never said yes!”

“I know, but I also warned you to be careful of your teasing or you might come to regret it,” he growled low.

You gave a distressed cry, wondering how long he would leave you hanging. Wondering how long you could hold out before you were begging him to let you come, screaming for him to move.

Lost in your worries, when he lowered his chest back to yours it wasn’t until his hot breath washed over your ear that you realized he’d moved. “But I am feeling lenient this night, my lady. My precious little one.”

The retreat of his hips came with the release of your wrists and you immediately wrapped them around his back. “Sweet…  _ fuck _ !” you wailed as his cock pulled free of your body only to sink back in. You turned your face into his throat and panted against his skin, pressing kisses against his jaw.

His arms wrapped around you, sank beneath you. One hand gripped your hair and tugged, a shock to your scalp. “You will come when I say.”

“Heimdall,” you whined softly, whimpering for you were so damn close already your entire being seemed to throb on the brink of ecstasy. “I can’t…”

“You will. You will do as I command.” He kissed you hard, the roughness mixing with the soft, nearly languid strokes of his cock through your rapidly fluttering walls.

You dug your nails into his back and brought your legs up to wrap around his hips, finally free from the restriction of his thick thighs. The angle deepened, his ridge and crown dragging repeatedly over your sweet spot until you shook with how ready you were, how close, and begged for release.

“Please, please, oh please! I can’t…  _ Heimdall _ !”

“Do you need to come?” he murmured against your ear, amusement present.

“ _ YES _ !” you screamed, clawing at his back.

“Then come, darling.” He nipped your jaw, your parted lips, and thrust hard.

The rough plunge took him as deep as he could go and sent a shockwave of pleasure slamming through your womb. It shattered the hold you had placed on your orgasm, and if the boys had thought you’d screamed loudly before, it was nothing compared to the shriek of, “ _ Fuck, yes, Heimdall _ !” which echoed through the room.

White edged your vision as the waves of release swept you away. They crashed through you, seeming to crest against your skin and burn through your veins. Seconds, minutes, hours. You lost hold of time and simply existed in the sea of bliss.

The rumble of pleasure which came from the god gone still above you finally pulled you back. His cock remained hot and hard inside you, so thick and throbbing. “So good,” he moaned and it was the sexiest thing you’d ever heard. “That is… you feel…  _ damn _ …”

It made you snicker, seeing him lose a little of his fierceness. “That was incredible,” you murmured, stroking his back.

Another rumble filled his chest, but this one was all amusement when he lifted his gaze back to yours. “You sound as if we are finished. I can assure you, we are not.” His hands went beneath your shoulders and before you could squeak out a protest, he had you up in his lap, his ass resting on his heels with your legs still wrapped tight around his waist.

“ _ Damn _ …” you moaned, throwing your head back as he sank impossibly deeper. You wrapped your arms around his neck and dragged him closer, loving the feel of his skin pressed to yours.

His hands skimmed down to your waist, large palms spanning it easily. “You are so beautiful,” he whispered, lips close to yours as he began the task of lifting your body up and down his shaft. “I have never seen such beauty in all the nine realms.”

“Heimdall,” you sighed, sinking into his mouth to chase his tongue. Sweat had sheened both your bodies some time ago, and now the feel of his slick skin rubbing, brushing, pulling against your breasts was so good you couldn’t help but whimper.

“And you are mine, precious (Y/N). Mine and only mine. Feel what I do to you. The pleasure only I can give.”

You could. You did. You were.

You’d never known anything like it. Pleasure like a drug was stealing your breath, invading your senses, and sinking into your soul. Every limb felt heavy. Every inch of your skin tingled. Air seemed impossible to catch and unnecessary in that moment. All that mattered for life was the heavenly feeling in your core, the glide of his thick cock through your folds, and the intense pleasure building again.

He licked his way up your throat. “You are close. I can feel the tension in your body.”

A loud cry leapt from your throat when he closed his teeth on your shoulder.

“You fit me so well, little one. Your body was made for mine.”

Every word drove you higher, almost as swiftly as the thrusting of his hips. “Heimdall…”

“Such a good girl,” he growled, increasing his pace, fucking up into you with greater speed and even more force.

It had stars bursting behind your eyelids. “Heimdall!”

“Now!” he commanded bringing you down roughly over him in quick short thrusts.

Again your body responded, falling into the sea of ecstasy he was trying to drown you in. A stuttering cry left your lips, followed by a deep moan as you slumped against him.

He buried his face in your neck, riding out the clenching, milking, pulsing your channel was doing on him. “Fuck!” burst from his lips.

“I don’t… think I can… move…” you sighed happily, your legs falling from his waist. You rested your head on his shoulder and licked at the sweat trickling down his throat.

Heimdall chuckled softly and lifted you off his still hard cock to lay you face down on the bed. When you stretched slowly, he moved to cover your body with his and pin you to the bed. “We are still not done, my lady. In fact, we have only just begun.”

A shiver raced your spine, both excitement for what was to come and concern you wouldn’t survive him hit you hard, but you pushed away the one in favor of the other.

You threw a smile over your shoulder and closed your hands in the bedding. “Bring it on, my god Heimdall.”

  
  
  



	7. Chapter 7

His grin was wicked, sinful, and so reminiscent of Loki you had to laugh softly at the look.

“Something amuses you?” he asked, brow arching.

“I think I know where the God of Mischief learned his smile,” you teased.

Thick fingers delved into your hair, pushing it from your neck to massage the base of your skull. Teeth found your shoulder, gentle and scraping while his rumble of laughter reverberated through your back.

“Perhaps, but I have no desire to speak of other men when you lie naked and pliant beneath me.”

“Jealous?” you quipped, following the pull of his fingers as he turned your head and arched your neck to a sharper degree.

“If I for one moment thought you actually believed me when I said you could have any man here on their knees with nothing more than a crook of your finger and a smile, I might be.”

“Not any man,” you murmured, arching into the play of his lips over your throat.

“Any man,” he whispered in your ear.

“Pretty sure the Director has no such regard for me,” you snickered only to gasp when he bit your ear.

“I will give you that one, woman.”

He sat back and let his hands stroke lightly over your skin. They teased the bones of your spine. Moved slowly, methodically, point by point down the length to trace the curve of your sacrum and tickle your tailbone. His lips soon began to take the same journey, placing sweet, tender kisses on all the spots his fingers had touched.

You moaned softly and dug your nails into the bed when he licked the dimples at the base of your spine.

Big hands kneaded your ass cheeks, squeezing and lifting and spreading them apart. “You have such a fine ass. Like one of your Midgardian peaches. It is lush and firm.”

“Large and jiggly,” you sighed only to yelp when his hand came down firmly on one fleshy mound.

“Do not say such things. Your body is precious, beautiful, and glorious. It is a wonderland for my hands to walk. A treasure trove for my lips to discover.” Hot breath washed over your skin before he bit down gently and made you groan when he growled like a wild animal.  “I could simply eat you, a decadent morsel meant to be feasted upon.”

He bit the other side, keeping up the constant stroke and massage of his hands over your skin.

You wondered if this was what it felt like to be a cat. You wanted to arch and purr, flex into his soothing touch. You wanted to roll on your back and have him do the same to your front, and wondered, too, what it would be like to have him rub oil on your skin before laying out at the beach. It would need to be a private affair, you were positive, as you doubted you would keep your hands off him should he touch you so again.

“Heimdall,” you sighed when his big hands drifted back down to skim the cleft of your cheeks.

“I keep remembering the swatch of fabric you had tucked right here,” he murmured, the sound dark, decadent, and rich with want. “How it rubbed here, sat nestled here. Your skin is so soft.” He shifted beyond your range of sight, but the caress of his nose over your sacrum made you quiver.

_ How had you never know you were so sensitive to touch there? _

The scruff of his beard abraded the same flesh. You shivered beneath the onslaught and went still as stone. Wet heat, a stroking tongue, made its way over the curve of your backside to lick at the base of your tailbone.

A wanton moan slipped free, unable to believe how sensual it all was and moisture flooded your core.

His fingers stroked lightly downward to slick through the fresh rush of fluid. “How wet you are again,” he chuckled softly. “Do you want more, little one? You threw out the challenge, but can you take more? Can you keep up with me?” he asked, fitting the fat head of his cock back against your slick sheath. He rubbed it there, nudging your clit, bumping against it slowly as he lowered his weight back down to you. Teeth caught your ear as a whispered, “Can your pretty cunny keep up?”

You lifted your ass into his hips and spread your legs a little wider. “Try me.”

A pleased rumble sounded as he sank back into you. It was just as tight as the first time, his cock seeming somehow bigger to you as he slowly worked his way inside. His crown drove directly into your g-spot, sending sparks and stars racing through your body.

“ _ God _ , Heimdall!” you cried, burying your face in the bedding as you relaxed into the steady penetration. You wanted to thrash, scream, moan, drive your hips back, but he wouldn't be rushed. Not that you could have with his weight pinning you down.

“Talk to me,” he murmured. “How does it feel? What does it feel like?”

“Hot,” you gasped. “Thick and hard and so hot! You stretch me so good, Heimdall. Everything feels so good!”

He bottomed out, held there as your walls fluttered, stretched to their very limits. Slowly, a hand crept along the length of your arm, fingers skimming flesh until they laced with yours. The other sank beneath you, between your belly and the bedding, delving deep to lift your hips into his and find your hard clit.

You moaned when his fingers rubbed back and forth as his hips began to piston. It had pleasure skating through your veins like liquid fire. Air became difficult to catch. His weight was heavy but you hardly cared. You'd die of pleasurable asphyxiation before you complained.

He rutted you into the mattress. There was no other word for it. What had once been tender had become darker, wilder. The beast you'd been enticing had appeared to play.

The slap of hips, the sound of flesh meeting flesh as he pulled out and sank back in was scandalously loud. He moaned and growled against your ear, an animal enjoying himself, but you were no better.

Whimpers and moans and pleas for  _ more _ ,  _ harder _ ,  _ faster _ fell from your lips as coils tightened in your womb and more fire raged in your blood.

His rasping, panting breath sent a wicked shiver down your spine. “Are you going to come for me again, little one?”

The question drove you mad. “Heimdall!”

His fingers moved faster as he drew you up, arched you up, and held you there by his enormous strength. The drag of his cock through your walls left you keening in pleasure.

“Do it now!” he snarled, slamming hard against your ass, causing your flesh to burn.

Everything narrowed down to the pounding pace and coil inside you. It snapped and you screamed. Lightning rushed through you. Whips of such searing delight rushed through your nerves you had to close your eyes when spots danced in your vision.

He snarled, dropping your hand to roll the two of you to your sides and continue thrusting into your clenching body. There was no pause to ride it out, only a primal need for  _ more _ .

Your leg was pulled over his hips, spreading you open for the fingers made slick to slide over your hard jewel, trace the stretched out lips of your pussy.

The fingers which had been laced with yours closed around your throat. “There is nothing so exquisite as you. So tight, so slick, so  _ wet _ . I love feeling how we are joined.” He touched every inch, gliding thick, slippery fingers all over you, coming back to your throbbing clit over and over. “Feel this. Feel  _ us _ .”

It wasn't a question but a command your hand followed long before your brain caught up. He captured your fingers and brought them to where his length was sliding inside your tight sheath.

“Fuck,” fell from your lips, and your eyes fluttered open to take in the sight of his fat cock buried in your cunt. You purred at the sinful image, flexing your leg on his hip in reaction to drag him deeper.

“You like to watch, darling?” He rumbled out a chuckle.

“Mmm,” you hummed arching into the hand around your throat.

“Perhaps I'll request a large mirror for my apartment.”

Your mind went to thoughts of mirrored ceilings. Of watching his muscles flex as he loved you. Of watching him kiss his way down your body. Of gripping his hair as he brought you off with his mouth. Of opening yourself up as you were and watching him fuck into you with vigor.

Your orgasm snuck up on you out of nowhere, stealing your breath as you shook from the ferocity, coming so hard even Heimdall grunted at the force.

His hand wrapped tighter around your throat, encouraging your head to turn so you could see his face. “What wicked, naughty thought did you just have, little one, to come so spectacularly?”

A blush reddened your cheeks. “Um… mirrored ceilings.”

Interest warmed his eyes as he looked to the roof, his thrusts slowed to a leisurely pace as if he was doing nothing more than taking a stroll around the grounds. “Mirrored. Are such things done?”

An aftershock shook you, well aware the intriguing idea was playing havoc with his thoughts as his cock seemed to get just that much bigger. “It’s… it's considered tacky.”

“Pity,” he rumbled, returning his attention to you and tilting your chin up to kiss your lips.

His tongue was a tease, playfully advancing and retreating until you whimpered, begging for a deeper kiss. He sank between your lips, swirling and mating his tongue with yours until your lips tingled, feeling bruised and swollen.

When he lifted his head, he smiled. “I would have enjoyed taking my fill of you beneath such a thing.” He rolled onto his back, taking you with him.

You wound up with you back plaster to his chest, his cock now plunging deep with his feet planted on the bed. A scream of shock became a moan of pleasure at the forceful taking. The furious thrusting pushed you to the edge quickly.

“Imagine it. Looking up to see me taking you like this. To be able to watch as I fuck that pretty cunny.” He groaned and brought his hand up to tug on your nipple. “You bathe me in your essence, darling. Soak me with it. You would love it, wouldn't you?”

“Yes!” you hissed, unable to deny how it made you wetter.

His hands dropped to your ribs and he pushed you up. Your hands found his chest, understanding where he wanted you. The support was for your benefit as he gripped your hips and began a thorough fucking you'd yet to experience. He thrust up as he pulled down, sending bolt after bolt of pleasure to your womb, making you cry and shriek and moan, loving the roughness, amazed all over again at his strength.

“You could watch as I wreck you. See the beauty of it when you come apart on my cock. The pleasure it gives me when you do.”

“Vegas!” you screamed. “I’ll take you to Vegas!”

“Are there mirrored ceilings in this  _ Vegas _ ?” he growled.

“Yes!” you shrieked.

“Excellent!” he laughed and tripled his pace.

A long, high pitched keen ripped from your throat as the orgasm started, rippling across your stomach, shaking your limbs, burning through your veins in white-hot pleasure. Black edged your vision. Your body and brain seemed to detach from each other as reality faded into a pool of bliss upon which you floated.

When your arms gave out, you fell back on his chest with an ungraceful flop to lay there a quivering mess. A shaking mass of strung out muscle and pounding heart. Tears dripped from the corner of your eyes as a sob escaped your lips on a ragged breath.

Yet, still, he was hard.

“Precious little one,” he crooned, lifting your limp form from his body to lay at his side. “You've done so well. Can you take more?”

You whimpered, unable to form coherent sentences.

“One more. One more very special one.” His eyes glowed with affection and pride while his hand stroked soothingly down your quaking body.

“Mm,” you hummed, giving consent.

Fire filled his eyes, and you almost regretted your decision. Then, the softness returned to his gaze as he lifted you up and moved off the bed.

“Heimdall?” you asked softly.

He chuckled, deep and a touch wicked. “I did say the tenth time I would take you against the wall.”

Wetness instantly renewed between your thighs. “Oh god,” you moaned, wrapping your arms around his neck.

Tender kisses were being placed on your jaw. Sweet, soft, gentle kisses. Soothing and arousing all at the same time.

He took long strides across the room into the candlelit bathroom. “Wait right here,” Heimdall said, placing you on the counter.

The cold stone made you shiver as you watched him prowl toward the big slate encased shower and turn on the water. Steam rose quickly, billowing in white clouds as he played with the temperature controls. His flexing, stretching, contracting muscles were a temptation you couldn’t ignore and had you scooting silently from the countertop to walk up behind him.

Your arms went around his waist and mouth to his skin. A swipe of your tongue up his spine came at the exact same moment as your hand wrapped around his cock.

A groan left his lips. “Back to not following orders.”

“I’m a rebel that way,” you murmured, smirking a little. Your hand moved over him, long and thick and so damn hard, slick and a little sticky from your time together. A throb of anticipation filled you, excitement at having him again. Even tired, a little tender, and thoroughly satisfied it was like an addiction. One taste was all it had taken. One heated look. One dirty remark. One kiss. One touch.

He’d ruined you for anyone else.

His hand closed around your wrist, the one skating over his abdomen, following the dips and hollows of his defined and cut body, to tug you beneath the spray.

Warmth exploded over your spine when the water touched you, heating your already scorching body. It made you moan and tilt your head back, wetting your hair and letting the water run down your chest, all while continuing to stroke his heavy cock.

A rumble of appreciation came from him, and you opened your eyes to watch his gaze track the trails of water as they trickled down your skin.

Soon, his mouth was back on you, following those trails, sucking and licking. You cradled his head with your free hand, skimming your nails over his cock with the other. His lips wrapped your nipple, pulled and tugged until you were arching into his touch. You jerked on his hair, seeking to drag him closer.

He smiled against your skin and switched breasts. His hips had begun to thrust, his desire for faster contact clear.

A nip to your breast made you gasp and clench your fist around him.

In an instant, your wrists were captured, pinned to the wall above your head with one of his large hands. His other arm went beneath your ass, lifted you high, causing you to spread your legs and wrap them around his hips. The hot tip of his cock was back at your opening, waiting, hesitating, until you looked into his eyes.

He sank deep, a slow, smooth thrust which had him stretching you out between one breath and the next.

Your mouth dropped open on a moan. “Oh,  _ Heimdall _ !”

He brought his face to the crook of your neck and let go of your wrists to take your ass in both hands.

It took a second for you to bring your arms down, return them to his back where you could dig your nails in and hold on. He’d changed everything about how he loved you in that instant. The fury was gone, the taste of wicked, of feral, of the  _ beast _ had vanished. The God he’d been teasing you with, showing you as he’d fucked the breath from your lungs had softened.

This was tender. It was soft. It was a gentle bear of a man taking and giving in turn. He treated you with care and you felt a queen under his quiet loving.

The stone was hard against your back. His body hot against your front. The way he used his cock was making you see stars. Shivers constantly walked your skin. It was a methodical advance and retreat, long and slow glides of his throbbing length through your milking walls.

Never had you felt more connected to one person than you did the man whose hands were squeezing your ass, tilting you into the plunge of his hips. Panting breath warmed your throat, followed by whispers of his lips touching your skin. Words, deep and guttural were pouring from his lips but none of them were in a language you could understand.

Not that it mattered, your own voice was a constant stream of nonsensical moans and cries and swears as he took you high, made you soar, sent you tumbling on a wave of searing pleasure into a sea of rolling waves. The climax was unending, rolling on and on as he pushed you for more, more, more.

The smooth nature of his hips grew erratic, his rhythm faltering as he finally reached for his own end.

“Yes, yes, yes!” shrieked from your throat, so loud and forceful it made your voice crack. A second orgasm breached the first. You nails drew blood, and you wailed as your walls slammed down around him. Colors burst behind lids long closed. The pleasure bordered pain, felt as if you were holding a live wire with how you shook and arched and screamed his name.

His cock swelled, seemed to stall as he grew impossibly bigger before a final hard thrust had him roaring out his release, the sound echoing in the stone enclosed shower. It was that of a lion staking his claim, a wolf seizing its mate. It was loud and long and feral, ending on a relaxed and quiet rumble, almost a purr.

Warmth flooded your core, and you sighed in pleasure before a sudden thought crossed your mind. “Oh…  _ shit _ !”

Heimdall lifted his head from your shoulder. “Well… not quite the response I was hoping for.”

“No! No, it’s not that. That _ , this _ , was amazing,” you sighed, touching his cheek, “it’s just, um, we didn’t… we didn’t… use anything.”

He frowned. “I do not understand.”

“Con-contraceptives,” you whispered, doing a rapid calculation.

The confusion lifted, and he smiled before chuckling softly. “It is fine.”

“No, no it really isn’t.” This was  _ not _ a good time to forget protection.

“Little one,” he cooed, lifting you from the wall. His softening cock slipped from your sensitive folds and made you whimper at the stimulus. “I am a God of Asgard. My seed will not take root unless I wish it to.”

“Oh.” You blinked at him as he lowered your feet gently back to the ground. “That’s… convenient.”

“Did I disappoint you?” he asked.

The grin on his face had a flush burning through yours. “No! I… no. It’s way too early for that,” you said as you shook your head.

An amused rumble filled his chest, but he turned away to pick up the bar of soap sitting on the ledge. He began to run his hands over your ribs, hips, breasts, lathering the bar into a heavy foam.

It was decadent, like having a body servant. Someone to care for and see to your needs. All your needs.

You closed your eyes, wallowing in the care. Your hands rested on his chest, fingertips flexing into his strong pecs when he hit a particularly sensitive spot. You want to reciprocate, you really did, but it was taking all your concentration to stay on your feet and not doze off under the ministration of his gentle touch.

When his hand delved between your legs you shuddered, but his touch was light on your tender flesh. He rinsed you off just as carefully before cupping your chin and tipping your face up. Soft kisses rained down, as gentle as the water from the rain shower.

“It appears I have quite worn you out,” he murmured, stroking your wet hair back from your face.

“Mmm,” was the extent of your participation in the conversation, but you peeled your eyelids open.

He seemed to sparkle, but perhaps that was the candlelight reflecting off the drops of water in his hair. “Come, precious,” he said with a smile, pulling your closer.

You glided your hands up his chest as he bent to turn off the water and pick you up. “Can’t. Too tired,” you sighed, a cheeky grin curling your lips.

“Funny,” he chuckled.

He took you from the shower to return you to his bed, snagging towels on his way out of the bathroom. Your legs quivered when he set you back on your feet, but he quickly wrapped a towel around your body and encouraged you to sit. Another went around his waist, and the third went to your hair. He squeezed and rubbed the water from your hair, repeated the action with his own, then proceeded to dry your limbs and body.

By the time he was done you were half asleep. He was quick to scoop you up, slide you between the sheets, and tuck the blanket around you.

It made your heart quicken. None of your previous lovers had ever treated you with such care, such kindness as this enormous bear of a man. A smile flirted with your lips as he made his way around the room, snuffing out candles. He may be a bear, but he was also a teddy bear.

Your eyes had drifted shut by the time he returned to the bed, the candles on the nightstand the only ones left. They flickered against your closed lids until he blew them out.

The bed dipped. His big arms surrounded you, ones which made you feel safe, cherished, dare you say…  _ loved _ ? When he urged you closer you went willingly. He kept tugging, shifting, scooting you around until you found yourself resting on top of him, head pillowed between his pectorals, leg trapped between his knees. Even without him being aroused his cock was a thick weight against your thigh.

“You okay with this?” you murmured.

“Very.”

“Won’t get uncomfortable?” A rumble of laughter tickled your ear.

“No, little one. This way you are safe and warm against my heart. Right where you belong.”

Your heart skipped a beat with his declaration.

Strong fingers began to glide the length of your spine. It was relaxing and you melted into the heat of his body, breathing with him until you were almost asleep.

“What if I drool?” you murmured as you drifted off.

“Then it will be as adorable as you are.”

Your heart warmed in your chest as you fell asleep to the press of lips against your hair.

  
  



	8. Epilogue

You woke to the gentle rise and fall of your head over a slowly beating heart. The wide chest, warmth, and velvet soft skin were a familiar comfort now. Better than a pillow in your estimation.

After six months of sleeping in such a position, whenever Heimdall was called away it was nearly impossible to be comfortable in this bed by yourself. It felt cold and too big when you were there alone.

Certainly, that first morning so many months ago, when you had awoken it had been a little strange. There you were, feeling like you’d molded yourself to him overnight, melted into all that muscle, and yes -  _ lord save you -  _  you had drooled a little, but damn if you hadn’t slept like a baby. You’d looked up to find him awake and watching you, amber eyes alight with soft affection.

A blush had spread through your face, making him laugh and roll you beneath him where he’d showed you how little he cared about things like drool and morning breath as he’d made you moan, and cry, and scream for him all over again.

Your inability to walk without tenderness had been cause for intense teasing, though, when Natasha had shown up to give you a high five and send an appreciative glance toward Heimdall, the others had swiftly shut their yaps.

Steve hadn’t been able to look you in the eye without blushing for a solid week. Bucky had leered but it was less lecherous, more a  _ damn that was impressive _ kind of way. Heimdall’s prowess was now the thing of legends, something spoken of with reverence and respect.

You hadn’t been able to look either super soldier in the eye for three weeks without knowing they heard every damn thing. It was  _ mortifying _ , but when Heimdall got his hands on you, it wasn’t like you could stop the noises coming from your mouth.

The man was a  _ god _ . A sex god! But he was also sweet, and kind, and so damn loving. He’d been impossible to resist, unwavering in his devotion, and sneaky as hell.

You hadn’t even realized you’d moved in until three months into your relationship when you’d opened his closet to realize it was full of your clothes. It was then you noticed the artwork from your walls now hung on his, the pictures of your family were on his shelves, the extra dresser in his bedroom was full of your things, and the colorful throw cushions on his couch had once lived on yours.

Stunned, you’d walked out of his apartment, made the trek back to yours, gone inside and stared in shock at how empty it was. The only thing left was the bottle of body wash you knew he hated the smell of and a pair of sweats you never wore. Just how he’d done it, and when, remained a mystery. You’d gone to work that day and filed the paperwork releasing the apartment back to the company for someone else to use.

That night, you’d told Heimdall you loved him.

He’d laughed, hugged you, and kissed the top of your head, stating he was well aware of that fact and it was nice you’d finally caught on. You’d smacked him in the middle, but it was about as effective as smacking a wall and had stomped off to have a bath and pout.

The least he could have done was say it back.

A half hour later he’d walked in with two glasses of wine, stripped down, and forced your grumpy self to share the tub. Once you'd settled into the cradle between his thighs, he’d lightly caressed your arms, giving you gooseflesh and calming your ire until you’d sighed and melted into him. Then he kissed your shoulder, held you close, and whispered the very same words.

Not even the noise canceling headphones worked to keep the two nosy as hell super soldiers from hearing some of what went on that night.

Now, six months into your relationship, you were blissfully content. Heimdall had been away for a week, returning only yesterday, surprising you in your office when the team had finished early. The reunion had been highly inappropriate for work hours as he’d locked the door and taken you roughly against the wall like you’d once wanted him to.

His hand had remained firmly over your mouth, muffling the cries of passion you could do nothing to contain, turning you into a disheveled mess in no time. It had been a glorious homecoming. One you would remember fondly.

He was sleeping so peacefully you were loath to wake him and moved carefully to lift your body from his. Somehow you escape his arms and the bed without disturbing him and padded across the room to pick up his shirt. The big button down had come off quickly last night and ended up on the floor with the rest of your clothes.

It swamped you, as to be expected, but it smelled like him, and you tucked your nose into the collar, inhaling happily as you went to start the coffee.

Tony had thrown a hell of a party last night, celebrating the team’s successful mission. One which had provided even more information on both Hydra’s agenda and where their funding originated. Tony had been especially full of praise for Heimdall who had become an invaluable member of the team.

Heimdall’s eyes had, more than once, saved the team from being overrun or taken by surprise. He was, as you’d expected, turning into a crack marksman though Bucky could still out shoot him on accuracy if not distance.

The two of them were often out on the shooting range, which had needed to be doubled in length, pulling all kinds of shenanigans.

You hummed softly as you waited for the coffee to perk and shoved at your mess of hair. Later today you and Heimdall were going to be spending some time there as well.

A little over a month ago, he’d come to you on your day off and pulled you away from your book, saying he had a surprise. The surprise had included guns and how to use them. You’d been hesitant, but he’d been patient and encouraging, and you’d succeeded in  _ not _ shooting your foot off.

Steve and Bucky had become your personal cheer squad and while you still didn’t believe Heimdall when he said they’d once had feelings for you, you no longer felt so far removed from the team as you had. You were no longer the wallflower but an active participant - if often a reluctant one - in many of the fun and games they all got up too.

You had to admit, laser tag with the Avengers was both fun and frightening. Thank god you’d been on Natasha’s team. Going up against her would have been terrifying. Not even Bucky and his murder strut appearing out of the dark had been as scary as the redheaded demon Nat had become.

“Your smile lights up the room, little one. What memory so amuses you?” Heimdall asked from the doorway, most comfortable in his nudity.

You turned to take him in and leaned against the counter at your back. “Laser tag with the team,” you said, letting your gaze drift down his body.

No matter how many times you saw him in all his nakedness, it still gave you a wicked thrill. Thick and defined with muscle, he was a giant of a man, and when your gaze followed the ‘V’ of his hips to land on his quickly growing cock, you couldn’t help but snicker.

“See something you like?” you asked, biting your lip to contain your smile.

“Always,” he rumbled, the sound deep and dark and tempting.

You played with the hem of his shirt as he slowly stalked you across the room. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“Then you should not have left our bed.” Eyes of amber were shifting to gold nearly as fast as his erection was growing.

It made you wet and he hadn’t even touched you. “But… coffee…” you pouted.

He chuckled, took you by the waist, and lifted you to sit on the counter. “I know, my heart. You are quite addicted, but you could have returned to our bed to wait for it to finish instead of tempting me to rise with the vision of you dressed in nothing but my shirt.”

“I could have,” you murmured, bringing your hands to his shoulders, “had I known you were awake, but now,” you spread your knees and urged him closer, “you can keep me company while we wait.”

His fingers made swift work of the buttons on his shirt before pulling you forward and sliding easily, lazily, into your waiting heat. “Company, hm?”

Your eyes closed at the bliss of his entrance, stretching you still and making you throb. You leaned back on your hand for a better angle and rocked your hips as his shirt fell down your back. “Feels… so good…”

He thrust a few times, his movements slow, then paused once he was buried deep to hold you close and kiss your throat. “You have been nearly insatiable these last weeks.” He wasn’t wrong. The two weeks prior to his departure you’d only needed to look at him to find yourself hot, bothered, and desperate.

“Are you complaining?”

“Not at all. Just curious as to why it is you seem, suddenly, to want me inside you at every opportunity.”

You blushed, unable to stop it, unwilling to give voice to the desire that lived in your heart. “It’s nothing,” you muttered, pushing forward to wrap your arms around his neck and bury your face in his shoulder.

His hands tightened on your hips. “It is clearly _not_ nothing.”

A moan was rent from your lips when he lifted you from the counter to take you to the sofa, his length sliding in and out with every step in a most pleasing manner, to sit in the center of the cushions and arrange your knees comfortably beside his hips.

You settled in his lap with a shiver, his cock so deep it pressed hard against your cervix and set your mind reeling. “Heim _ dall _ ,” you whined when you made to move only to have him hold you still.

“Look at me, (Y/N).”

You didn’t want to and tucked your chin as your blush flared hotter.

His fingers threaded through your hair and applied steady pressure until you were forced to lift your chin. “Have I done something to upset you?”

“No!” you gasped, snapping your eyes to his only to realize he’d tricked you. “It’s not important,” you sighed, looking away again.

“It is very important or you would speak your mind.” His big hand guided your chin up with a tug of your hair. His other hand rose to cup your cheek and rub his thumb over your lower lip. “Since when has speaking your wants, your desires to me become a problem?”

Tears burned your eyes, but you fought them back. “It's foolish. Please don’t-”

His thumb stopped your words. “You took me to Vegas for mirrored ceilings.  _ That _ was, perhaps, foolish but something which clearly affects you this much, my precious little one, is not. Tell me.”

You couldn’t meet his eyes, ending up gazing at the hands you’d pressed to his chest instead. With how hard your heart was pounding, it was a wonder it didn’t just fly from your body. Burst-free in a shower of anxiety.

“Is it another?” he whispered, going very still beneath you. “Do you wish for another to come to our bed?”

“What!?” You nearly choked in surprise.

“If it was what you wished, what you needed,” he sighed and looked away, “though I would be disappointed I was no longer enough if it kept you happy and at my side, I would do it.”

Your mouth hung open in disbelief. “No!” you shouted, but, watching his eyes close and relief wash over him, you realized you were only making things worse by remaining silent. “Heimdall,” you sighed, trying not to fidget, nor flex around the length of hard flesh tormenting you. When his golden eyes returned to yours, you sighed and blurted out, “Maryann in accounting is pregnant.”

His brow arched. “I had nothing to do with that.”

“Of course you didn’t! Her husband did.” Frustrated and embarrassed, you made to remove yourself from his lap but frozen when his hand slipped from your hair to close around the back of your neck.

“Why is this important to you?”

His eyes were a solid gold when you looked his way. The gentle squeeze and release to the back of your neck was something he did often, usually to calm you down or comfort you, but this time it felt more like he was keeping you there, balanced on the cusp of something huge.

“Because,” you whispered.

“Because why?” He drew you closer until your elbows bent and you were laying on his chest trying not to hyperventilate.

“Because… I was… jealous.”

“Ah,” he murmured, a smile lacing his voice. “I see.”

“Do you?” you snapped, finding his amusement insulting.

His smile only widened. “Indeed. You want everything. A home. A husband. A child. Can I assume you would like those things with me? Is this why your desire has become so evident?”

Red burned through your face at having him lay it all out like that, but you gave a sharp nod and closed your eyes, fearing rejection, more amusement, anything but what came next.

“It’s about damn time.”

“What?” you whispered, jerking against his hold.

He relaxed his arm enough to allow you to sit back. The smile he wore was radiant, like the sun on your skin after days of rain. “It has taken incredible will power on my part not to fill your belly with my child. The idea of you growing round,” his eyes warmed as his gaze drifted down to stop where his hand now rubbed in small circles over your lower abdomen, “gives me great joy.”

“What? I… what?” You could only blink and stare in amazement.

“If it was up to me, I would stand before Thor tomorrow and make my pledge to you because you are my love, my cherished little one. Long have I desired this with you. To make you mine forever is my great wish.” His gaze lifted back to yours and held there, full of tenderness. “I have simply been waiting for you to catch up.”

“I…” You were speechless. Though his smile was a little smug, the honesty and adoration in his eyes widened yours into what you were certain were comical proportions. “You… what?”

He chuckled softly and brought your mouth back to his for a gentle, sweet kiss. “I have always known where we were going, my darling. I have simply been waiting for you to arrive at the same conclusion.”

The touch of his quiet hands stroking feather light down your back made you quiver. They settled on your hips, rocking you slightly, reminding you of your current position.

_ Like you could forget. _

“Does that mean… did you just… are you asking me…” The words seemed lodged in your throat, stuck behind the lump of emotion threatening to choke you.

“Yes, yes, and yes,” he smiled. “Though unconventional, given our current… position,” his hands flexed on your ass, “I would be most honored, most pleased, most humbled if you consented to be mine. My wife, my mate, the mother of my children, my cherished, beloved, (Y/N).”

“Ooh… my god…” Were the only words you seemed able to find in your brain gone silent.

“I can be. I could be your god if you say yes,” he chuckled softly.

“Yes,” you whispered, a single tear sliding down your face to drip from your chin as your smile broke, big and wide and likely goofy as hell.

His eyes blazed bright as he relaxed into the sofa. “Then take what you want from me, little one.”

His hands squeezed your ass again, and you became aware of how big and hard and hot he felt inside you as you began to ride, lift and lower your hips over his pulsing shaft. For a man who so often liked to pin you down and take you, he loved it just as much when you rode him and took your pleasure from him.

It required no more than a half dozen circles of your hips to work you into a moaning frenzy, walls clenching as he tugged you down with each thrust. “Heimdall,” you whispered, digging your nails into his shoulders. You were so excited you likely wouldn’t last more than a handful of thrusts more.

“That's it, little one,” he murmured as he bent to lick and suck your breasts. “Take it. Take it all. I will soak you in my seed until it ripens in your belly.”

You were fairly certain you couldn't get any more turned on until he rumbled out those words and you were coming, clenching around him, milking his cock, moaning at the feel of fire streaking through your veins and the burst of heat that filled your belly. “Oh god,  _ Heimdall _ !”

He rumbled out a purr of pleasure as he came, holding you down and spending himself deep. He was barely finished before he was off the couch and striding for the bedroom with you gripped tightly to his wide chest.

“Coffee?” you squeaked.

“It will keep,” he growled, the man receding in favor of the beast. “You are not leaving my bed until our child grows in your middle.”

You shivered at the heat in his eyes. “What about the wedding?”

“Thor returns next week. My King will marry us then, but I will see your wish fulfilled before that day.” He smiled and it was deviant and sexy and so wicked.

“My family can be here in a week,” you whispered as you pulled him down on top of you. Perhaps it was a good thing you both had today off.

“Excellent,” he smirked, beginning anew.

The coffee grew cold and stale in the pot before he was finished with you.

When he finally let you breathe again hours later, you noted the sparkle on your left hand. The ring was beautiful, gold with an amber stone in the shape of a heart and surrounded by diamonds.

“Heimdall!” you gasped, stunned by the beauty of it and its sudden appearance.

“Mm,” he hummed, taking your hand to kiss your knuckles. “A fitting tribute to my golden heart.”

“It’s beautiful, but how?”

He rolled into you, covered your smaller body with his big one, and kissed you firmly. “Why magic, little one. How else?”

**_-The End-_ **

  
  
  



	9. Golden Heart Beat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> grace-for-sale asked:  
> Since you're taking drabble requests, just HeimdallxReader Fluff or Smut! :)
> 
>  
> 
> How about an update on Golden Heart?

**Golden Heart Beat**

The sun on your face was soft through the window pane, while the breeze through the screen felt lovely. Stretched out on the bed, you sighed happily, head resting on Heimdall’s bare chest while your fingers lazily stroked his skin. 

Half asleep, you drifted on a wave of content bliss, happy like you’d never been before. When he rolled you gently to your back, you only smiled without bothering to open your eyes for you knew he wasn’t going anywhere, only shifting his big body lower in the bed. 

His large warm hand slowly began to push your shirt up so he could run his palm over your distended abdomen. “ _Mitt dyrebare barn. Jeg kan ikke vente å møte deg.” *****_ His deep voice rumbled quietly through the room.

It made you smile for he always spoke to the baby in the language of Asgard. When you’d asked why he’d said he wanted to be certain the child never forgot the other place they came from. You thought it sweet, incredibly adorable and reached down to run your fingers through his dreadlocks. 

“You are to be resting, little one. The doctor said so.“

“Then stop talking to your baby and let me,” you teased, giving his hair a tug. “You know I have a hard enough time sleeping now that I’ve gotten so big.” At seven months along, you were quite round, the babe a big boy or girl just like their daddy, and had ousted you from your favourite sleeping position sprawled over Heimdall’s chest. 

He pressed a kiss to your abdomen and slowly pushed your shirt higher, the thin tank top offering zero resistance to his wandering hand when he lifted it up to expose your breasts. “Perhaps you simply need my assistance to help you relax,” he murmured as he gently began to massage your breast. 

They were tender but he was careful, his touch a soft manipulation of skin and nipple which made you moan. You opened your eyes in time to watch him take the nipple into his mouth and arched into the heat. “Heimdall,” you sighed and clenched your fist in his hair.

“Mmm. You have always had such an exquisite figure, but now, darling wife, you _glow_ with new life. Your swollen breasts and round belly, you’re beautiful wide hips and lush hair… I cannot get enough of you.”

His mouth returned to your breast while his hand drifted back down to delve beneath the sheet wrapped around your hips and into your underwear.

“Heimdall,” you whimpered as he stroked you slowly, gently, seeming to have all the time in the world. There was no rush, not haste, no hurry as he took you up in a slow incline, the rise sweet and tender and full of love. 

He lifted his head and claimed your lips with drugging kisses. Kisses which took your breath and gave it back. Left you floating and sent you flying through the cosmos.

You came on a wave, swift and draining, leaving you lethargic and limp wrapped in his arms and sleepy against the pillows.

“There you go, little one. Sleep now.”

“But… you…” you tried to protest even as your eyes drifted closed. 

He smiled, his golden eyes as warm as the sun streaming into the room. “Later, precious wife. For now, my son or daughter needs you more. Sleep. Grow our babe.” He pulled your shirt down over your belly and helped you roll to your side where he curled into your back and cuddled you close.

“I love you… Heimdall,” you sighed.

He chuckled softly and kissed your shoulder. “Love you too, little one.” His hand settled over your child. “Both of you.“

**_-The End-_ **

_*My precious child. I can’t wait to meet you._ ****


	10. Golden Heart Jól

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> shitty-imagines-95 asked:  
> For drabble day would you consider doing another follow up of Golden Heart?? Maybe Babies first christmas?  
> anonymous asked:  
> Could we have Golden Heart Christmas with the new baby?? Maybe being born on Christmas, or what the Asgardians Celebrate that is, probably the Yule?  
> bitchy-stitches asked:  
> How about a First Golden Holiday with Heimdall? A combination of Norse Winter Festival and Secular American Christmas? Featuring their kid?

 

 

* * *

You smiled up at Heimdall when he came through the compound’s doors, stamping snow from his boots. On his shoulder rested a huge Christmas tree. It was December twentieth, the start of what the Asgardians called Jól or Yule. Tonight would begin the festivities for Thor, Loki, and Heimdall, and though the others had decorated for Christmas long ago, the team’s personal common area had been reserved for Asgardian tradition.

Last year had been the first year you’d celebrated Yule with Heimdall, your husband, at your side, but this year would be the first year you got to celebrate with Heimdall and your daughter. Born in October, she was but a few months old, and wouldn’t understand or remember anything that happened in the next twelve days, but that didn’t stop you from being unbelievably excited about sharing it with her.

“Look how big it is!” you exclaimed. “Look what daddy brought, Runa.” You patted her bum, but she only cooed gently against your shoulder.

“Little one.”

Heimdall walked toward you, sending you heart soaring. It continued to do that every time he smiled at you, or stalked toward you with that look in his eyes. When he bent down to kiss you, you were already stretching up to meet him. The kiss was anything but quick. It built a slow burn inside you, you were helpless against when he finally pulled away and left you aching for more.

“How is my precious babe?”

“Runa is just fine. She’s an absolute angel.”

“That is because she takes after her mother.” He smiled down at his daughter and gently stroked a knuckle over her cheek.

She was a beautiful baby, her skin barely a shade lighter than Heimdall’s. He could say she took after you, but Runa was Heimdall in miniature right down to her pretty golden eyes. “Flatterer. You know she’s one hundred percent your daughter.”

“She is at most fifty percent my daughter. She is half yours, my love.”

You smiled and shook your head, and headed down the hall. “Come on, sweet talker. You need to put down that tree. Your daughter wants her daddy.”

Laughter rumbled from him as he followed you, packing the eight-foot spruce with one hand. “I’m sure she missed me terribly.”

“Well, I did.” You shot him a smile over your shoulder.

“Little one, you keep looking at me like that, and we will be growing our family sooner than expected.”

The shimmer of heat that washed through you made you blush. “You and those eyes. Cut it out before my knees give out.”

He laughed again and followed you through the open doors.

“Heimdall!” Thor bellowed, causing Runa to give a startled cry.

“Thor!” you hissed working to shush the baby after her fright.

Contrition filled his face. “Y/N, I apologize.” He approached swiftly, a sheepish smile on his face. “May I?”

You glared at him but handed over your daughter. “You’d think after two months you’d learn not to bellow indoors.”

“I’m terribly sorry.” Thor leaned down and pressed a kiss to your cheek. “Forgive me?”

You shook your head and smiled up at him. “Always.”

“My king,” Heimdall said as he set the tree in its stand. “Stop flirting with my woman.”

“I would never,” Thor smirked and threw you a wink as he packed Runa around, gently patting her bum as he headed for the window. “The sun wheel looks incredible this year.”

“Thank you, brother.” Loki appeared beside Thor out of nothing and stole Runa, whose quiet whimpers had not quite settled, from his brother. “You have her all unsettled.”

While the two of them argued quietly over who was better equipped to soothe Runa, you headed toward Heimdall who was shrugging out of his jacket and unwrapping his scarf. His mass of dreads swung free and made you hum in appreciation.

He chuckled at your noise. “Some days I think you love me for my hair.”

“Well, it has a certain appeal.” As did the rest of him. Running your hands up his chest, you met him halfway when he took you by the waist and lifted you for another kiss. Your toes barely brushed the ground, but you let yourself float on the pleasure of his lips and sighed when he nipped his teeth into your tongue.

“What did I say about starting something?” he murmured when he lifted his head. His gaze drifted down to land on your generous cleavage. “Perhaps we should let Thor and Loki watch Runa and have a nap.”

“Your idea of a nap and mine are very different.”

He pulled you closer, his hands flexing on your waist. “It has been so long, little one, waiting for you to recover from Runa's birth.” He pressed his lips to your ear. “I miss your cries of passion when I bury my cock in your body.”

Even with other people in the room, he could still make your knees quake, but when Runa's whimpers became a full voice wail, you smiled sadly up at Heimdall and went to get your daughter.

“Hand her over. She's probably hungry.”

Loki appeared about to argue before his nose wrinkled. “I do believe she needs her nappy changed.”

“One of these days I'm going to leave that to you. Do you want the fun of playing uncle? Well, you can learn to change a diaper.” Runa settled into whimpers once back in your arms. “Isn't that right, baby? Mean old Uncle Loki won't change your bum. Even Uncle Steve has changed your diaper, hasn't he? Yes, he has.”

***

Heimdall chuckled as he watched his wife, his precious little one and her cherished bundle of joy stride from the room. She utterly refused to nurse Runa with an audience, no matter what Loki said about creating a barrier for her, but it was the look on the God of Mischief's face which made him frown. “Loki?”

“She called me Uncle.”

The boy, for to Heimdall he would always be the bright-eyed mischief-making boy the Guardian loved, looked stunned. “Of course. You are family.”

“Hm. The strange Uncle who visits only to cause chaos,” Thor chuckled.

Heimdall arched a brow. “As if you are any better my overly loud king?”

Thor gave a sheepish grin. “I am merely excited. How long has it been since we could celebrate Mother Night with a new mother in our midst?”

“Many years,” Loki murmured.

“She will not stand vigil like last year. But I will wait with you. I believe the Captain, Barnes, and Vision will be joining us.” Mother's Night was the longest night of the year and the night Asgardians honoured their female ancestors.

A vigil was held, and a yule log lit, to see the light did not go out but returned to the world to once again lengthen the days and shorten the nights. Therefore, it was fitting to honour their mothers, as mothers were the givers of life, as the sun was a giver of life.

The sun wheel, a wreath made from boughs of spruce and pine decorated with berries and pinecones, would be set alight and rolled down the nearest hill. As there were few hills in the area, Loki had taken to making a giant ice slide and letting the wheel roll down that. It was a tradition long thought to encourage the Norns to see the sun return, be reborn after the longest night.

Then they would begin to decorate, making wreaths and garlands, paper decorations of unique snowflakes to hang from the ceiling. Sacred gifts would be carved or created to hang on the tree, while Y/N would sneak in a couple of boxes of glass balls, “Just to add sparkle.”

Traditionally, there would be twelve nights of feasting, drinking, and gaming, but their level of celebration had been too hard on the Midgardians, so they'd cut it back to the four nights leading up to Christmas when they took a step back and celebrated in the Midgardian way. Then, after the twenty-sixth, they had smaller parties with roast ham, and as many Asgardian delicacies as Loki could produce. The beer never stopped flowing, and the people of Avengers compound were welcome to come and go as they pleased.

There were many a drunken laugh belted those nights, much fun had by all, and a few hookups that people regretted come morning. Thor saw to it that no one wound up paying for their drunken mistake by having a possibly unwanted child, and Loki used his magic to be sure no one got hurt when they stumbled home. Friday, the AI, saw to the rest.

It all culminated on New Year's Eve with one final feast of extravagance, blending Asgardian and Midgardian tradition perfectly.

Though it was different than what Heimdall was used too, he found he wouldn't change any of it for the world. He'd found a home, family, and happiness in the most unlikely place.

The arms of his little one, his cherished Y/N, and he couldn't be happier.

-The End-

 


End file.
